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A LADY OF ENGLAND 



THE LIFE AND LETTERS 



OF 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 



BY 

AGN ES GIBERNE 

AUTHOR OF 'sun, MOON, AND STARS,' ' RADIANT SUNS,' ETC. 



Nil desperandttin'' 

Motto of the Tucker Family 



NEW YORK 
A. C. ARMSTRONG & SON 

51 EAST TENTH STREET 

1895 






.14- 



11840 




Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE 

The principal mass of materials for this Biography was 
placed in my hands last summer by the Rev. W. F. Tucker 
Hamilton, nephew of Charlotte Maria Tucker (A. L. O. E.), 
and since then many other relatives or friends, both in 
England and in India, have contributed their share of 
help, either in the way of written recollections or of corre- 
spondence. A paucity of materials exists as to the early 
part of the life ; but in later years the difficulty is of a 
precisely opposite description, arising from a super- 
abundance of details. Hundreds of letters, more or less 
interesting in themselves, have had to be put ruthlessly 
aside, to make room for others of greater interest. From 
first to last the long series between Charlotte Tucker 
and her own especial sister-friend, Mrs. Hamilton, takes 
precedence of all other letters in point of freedom, natural- 
ness, and simplicity. The perfect trust and unshadowed 
devotion which subsisted between these two form a rare 
and beautiful picture. 

It has seemed to me, and it may seem to others, that 
the main question in the Life of Miss Tucker is, not so 



iv AUTHOR'S PREFACE 

much what she did here or there, in England or in India, 
as what she was. Many a discussion has taken place, and 
doubtless will again take place, as to the wisdom of her 
modes of Missionary work, and as to the degree of success 
or non-success which attended her labours. I have 
endeavoured to give fairly certain opposite views upon this 
question, even while strongly impressed with the convic- 
tion that no human being is capable of judging with 
respect to the worth of work done in his own age and 
generation. Subtle consequences, working below the sur- 
face, are often far more weighty, far more lasting, than the 
most approved ' results ' following immediately upon 
certain efforts, — results which are, not seldom, found after 
a while to be of the nature of mere froth. Nothing can be 
more unprofitable, usually, than the task of endeavouring 
to * count conversions.' It is of infinitely greater import- 
ance to note with what absolute self-devotion Miss Tucker 
entered into the toil, with what resolution she persevered 
in the face of obstacles, with what eagerness she did the 
very utmost within her power. 

In writing the story of Miss Tucker's life at Batala, it 
has been impossible not to write also, in some degree, the 
story of the Infant Church at Batala. My main object 
has of course been simply to show what Charlotte Maria 
Tucker herself was ; and Mission work. Mission incidents. 
Missionaries themselves, come in merely incidentally, as 



A UTHORS PREFA CE v 

part of the background to her figure. Mention of them 
is accidental and fragmentary; not systematic. At the 
same time there is no doubt that nothing would have 
gratified Miss Tucker more than that any use should have 
been made of her letters likely to help forward the great 
work of Missions among the Heathen. Some years 
before the end, when in severe illness she thought herself 
to be passing away, she spoke of the possibility that her 
long correspondence about Batala might be so employed, 
and earnestly hoped that, if it were so, no one-sided 
account should be given, but that shadow as well as sun- 
shine, the dark as well as the bright aspect, should be 
frankly presented. I have endeavoured to carry out her 
wishes in this particular. 

It is to be regretted that at least a few letters from 
Mrs. Hamilton to Miss Tucker cannot be interspersed 
among the many from Miss Tucker to Mrs. Hamilton. 
None, however, have come to hand. Before Miss Tucker 
went to India she destroyed the bulk of her papers, 
after a ruthless fashion; and it does not appear that 
while in India she kept any of the letters that she 
received. 

After some hesitation I have decided to give generally 
the names in full of those Missionaries, with whom she 
was most closely associated. I have also decided not 
to give the names of Indian Christians, with very few 



vi A UTHOR'S PRE FA CE 

exceptions, — as of the Head Master of the Native Boys' 
School at Batala, whom she counted a personal friend ; 
also of one or two Ordained Native Clergymen, and one 
or two contributors of slight material towards this Life. 
In many instances it would be very difficult to decide 
wisely at so great a distance, and without a knowledge of 
the individuals themselves. It is therefore best to be on 
the safe side. Many of the initials are the true initials ; 
but many are not even that, — especially in the case of 
those who are still Heathen or Muhammadan. 

In the spelling of Indian words and names I have 
endeavoured to follow mainly the more modern plan, 
adopted of late years, except in the case of a very few 
words which are practically Anglicised. Miss Tucker's 
own spelling of Indian words and names varies extremely ; 
the word being often given differently when occurring 
twice in a single page. The spelling has therefore been 
altered throughout her correspondence. To avoid con- 
fusion in the minds of English readers, I have also taken 
the same liberty with letters from some others who have 
not adopted the modern mode. 

In conclusion, I have only to express my sincere thanks 
for the most kind trouble taken by many friends of 
A. L. O. E. in contributing materials for my guidance. 

AGNES GIBERNE. 

WoRTON House, Eastbourne. 



PREFACE 

It would scarcely be fitting that this Volume should go 
forth to the Public without a few words of Preface from 
one of A. L. O. E.'s own family. 

Only my beloved Mother — the ' Laura ' of these pages 
— could have penned the words which should adequately 
tell all that my dear Aunt was to those who knew her 
best and loved her most fondly. And she^ little as she 
had expected it, was the first of the two to be called 
Home. 

It has, however, been a great satisfaction to me to 
intrust the preparation of the Life to Miss Giberne ; 
and I am glad to have this opportunity of expressing 
my hearty appreciation of the literary skill, the sympathy, 
and the fidelity to truth with which she has accomplished 
her task. 

Averse as my Aunt ever was to any fuss being made 
about her, nothing would have reconciled her to the 
publication of a Biography, save the hope that its story 
might be used of God to stimulate others to consecrate 
their lives to the Service of Christ, whether in the Foreign 



viii PREFACE 

or Home Mission Field. It is in such hope that it is 
now sent forth, with the earnest prayer that His blessing 
may rest upon it. 

W. F. TUCKER HAMILTON. 
Christ Church, Woking. 



Note. — Any profits derived by A. L. O. E.'s 
relatives from the publication of this volume will 
be apportioned among those Missionary Societies 
in which she was especially interested. 



CONTENTS 

PART I 
LIFE IN ENGLAND 

CHAPTER I 

TAGE 

THE STORY OF HER FATHER ..... 3 

CHAPTER II 

CHILDHOOD AND GIRLHOOD . . . .13 

CHAPTER III 

EARLY WRITINGS ...... 27 

CHAPTER IV 

A 'farce' OF GIRLISH DAYS ..... 39 

CHAPTER V 

HOME LIFE ....... 62 

CHAPTER VI 

GRAVITY AND FUN . . . . . . 71 

CHAPTER VII 

THE FIRST GREAT SORROW, AND THE FIRST BOOK . 83 

CHAPTER VIII 

CRIMEA, AND THE INDIAN MUTINY .... lOO 

b 



X CONTENTS 

CHAPTER IX 

PAGE 

LIFE'S EARLY AFTERNOON . . . . .112 

CHAPTER X 

A HEAVY SHADOW . . . . . .126 

CHAPTER XI 

GIVING COMFORT TO OTHERS ..... I37 

CHAPTER XII 

THE OLD HOME BROKEN UP . . . . . 146 

CHAPTER XIII 

VARIOUS CHARACTERISTICS . . . 159 

CHAPTER XIV 

AN UNEXPECTED RESOLVE ..... 173 

CHAPTER XV 

BESIDE NIAGARA . . . . . 184 



PART II 
LIFE IN INDIA 

CHAPTER I 

FIRST ARRIVAL IN INDIA ..... 197 

CHAPTER II 

A HOME IN AMRITSAR ...... 209 



CONTENTS xi 

CHAPTER III 

PAGE 

CURIOUS WAYS ....... 224 

CHAPTER IV 

A PALACE FOR A HOME ..... 239 

CHAPTER V 

DISAPPOINTMENTS AND DELAYS . . . .253 

CHAPTER VI 

A BROWN AND WHITE 'HAPPY FAMILY' . . . 267 

CHAPTER VII 

PERSECUTIONS ....... 282 

CHAPTER VIII 

EARLY CHRISTIAN DAYS IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY . 299 

CHAPTER IX 

THE CHURCH AT BATALA . . . . . 318 

CHAPTER X 

LOYAL AND TRUE . . . . . -331 

CHAPTER XI 

CLOUDS AFTER SUNSHINE ..... 344 

CHAPTER XII 

THE FIRST STONE OF BATALA CHURCH . . . 359 

CHAPTER XIII 

SOME OF A. L. O. E.'s POSSESSIONS .... 374 



xii CONTENTS 

CHAPTER XIV 

PAGE 

ON THE RIVER'S BRINK . . -395 

CHAPTER XV 

IN HARNESS ONCE MORE ..... 4IO 

CHAPTER XVI 

A VISIT FROM BISHOP FRENCH .... 427 

CHAPTER XVII 

THE DAILY ROUND ...... 445 

CHAPTER XVIII 

IN OLD AGE ....... 461 

CHAPTER XIX 

LIGHT AT EVENTIDE ...... 475 

CHAPTER XX 

THE LAST GREAT SORROW . . . . .491 

CHAPTER XXI 



THE HOME-GOING 



503 



LIST OF PRINCIPAL BOOKS BY A. L. O. E. . . . 515 

LIST OF SOME SMALL BOOKLETS BY A. L. O. E. . . 519 



PART I 



LIFE IN ENGLAND 



A 



' Constant discipline in unnoticed ways, and the hidden spirit's silent 
unselfishness, becoming the hidden habit of the life, give to it its 
true saintly beauty, and this is the result of care and lowly love in 
little things. Perfection is attained most readily by this constancy 
of religious faithfulness in all minor details of life, in the lines of 
duty which fill up what remains to complete the likeness to our 
Lord, consecrating the daily efforts of self- forgetting love.' — T. T. 
Carter. 



CHAPTER I 

A.D. 1771-1835 
THE STORY OF HER FATHER 

Charlotte Maria Tucker, known widely by her nom 
de plume of A. L. O. E., — signifying A Lady Of England, 
— as the successful author of numberless children's books, 
deserves to be yet more extensively known as the heroic 
Pioneer of elderly and Honorary volunteers in the broad 
Mission-fields of our Church. 

Her books, which were much read and appreciated in 
the youth of the present middle-aged generation, may to 
some extent have sunk into the background, as the works 
of successive story-tellers do in the majority of cases retire, 
each in turn, before newer names and newer styles ; but 
the splendid example set by Charlotte Tucker, at a time 
of life when most people are intent upon retiring from 
work, and taking if they may their ease, — an example of 
then buckling on her armour afresh, and of entering upon 
the toughest toil of all her busy life, will surely never be 
forgotten. 

She was the sixth child and third daughter of Henry 
St. George Tucker, a prominent Bengal Civilian, and, 
later on. Chairman of the East India Company. All her 
five brothers went to India, and all five were there in the 
dark days of the Mutiny. Thus by birth she had a close 
connection with that great eastern branch of the British 
Empire, to which her last eighteen years were entirely 



4 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

devoted. People in general go out early, and retire to 
England for rest in old age. Miss Tucker spent fifty-four 
active years in England, and then yielded her remaining 
powers to the cause of our fellow-subjects in Hindustan. 

It seems desirable that a slight sketch of her father's 
earlier life should precede the story of hers. 

Henry St. George Tucker came into this world on the 
15 th of February 1771. He was born in the Bermudas, 
on the Isle St. George, whence his name, and was the 
eldest of ten children. An interesting reference to this 
event is found in a letter of Charlotte Tucker's, written 
February 15, 1890: 'As I went in my duli to villages 
this morning, I thought, " One hundred and nineteen 
years ago a precious Baby was born in a distant island" ; 
and I thanked God for our beloved and honoured Father.' 

Henry St. George's father was a man of good descent, 
of high reputation, and of a leading position in the islands. 
His mother, a Miss Bruere before marriage, — probably the 
name was a corruption of Bruyere^ — was daughter of the 
then governor of the Bermudas, a gallant old soldier, 
possessing fourteen children and also a particularly 
irascible temper. 

The elder Mr. Tucker appears to have been a man of 
gentle temperament and liberal views ; I do not mean 
' Liberal ' in the mere party sense, but liberal as opposed 
to ' illiberal.' Whatever his own opinions may have been, 
he did not endeavour to force them upon his children ; he 
did not, in fact, petrify the children's little fancies by oppo- 
sition into a lasting existence. It is amusing to read of the 
opposite tendencies among his boys, one taking the loyal side 
and another the republican side in the dawning struggle 
between England and her American Colonies. Long after, 
Henry St. George spoke of himself as having then been ' a 
bit of a rebel ' ; adding, ' But my republican zeal was very 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 5 

much cooled by the French Revolution ; and if a spark of 
it had remained, our own most contemptible revolution of 
1830 would have extinguished it, and have fixed me for 
life a determined Conservative.' 

He had on the whole a strong constitution, though 
counted delicate as a child ; and his early life in the 
Bermudas was one of abundant fresh air and exercise. 
Much more time was given to riding and boating than to 
books ; indeed, his education seems hardly to have been 
begun before the age of ten years, when he was sent to 
school in England. Whether such a plan would answer 
with the ordinary run of boys may well be doubted. 
Henry St George Tucker was not an ordinary boy ; and 
he showed no signs of loss in after-life through ten years 
of play at the beginning of it. 

One piece of advice given to him by his mother, when he 
was about to start for England, cannot but cause a smile. 
She was at pains to assure him that it would be unnecessary 
to take off his hat to every person whom he might meet 
in the streets of London. Henry St. George, speaking of 
this in later years, continues : ' But habit is strong ; and 
even now, when I repair to the stables for my horse, I in- 
terchange bows with the coachman and the ostlers and all 
the little idle urchins whom I encounter in the mews.' One 
would have been sorry indeed to see so graceful a habit 
altered. It might far better be imitated. Exceeding 
courtesy was through life characteristic of the man, and it 
descended in a marked degree upon many of his descen- 
dants, notably so upon Charlotte Maria, the A. L. O. E. 
of literature. 

School education, begun at ten, ended at fourteen. The 
boy worked hard, and rose in his classes quickly ; though 
at an after period he spoke of his own learning in those 
days as ' superficial.' He had been intended by his father 
for the legal profession, and many years of hard work were 



6 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

supposed to lie before him. These plans were unexpectedly 
broken through. One of his aunts, who lived in England, 
acting impulsively and without authority, altered the whole 
course of his career. She asked him, ' Would he like to 
visit India ? ' A more unnecessary question could hardly 
have been put. What schoolboy of fourteen would not 
' like to visit India '? Young Henry seized upon the idea; 
and the said aunt, under the impression that she was kindly 
relieving his father of needless school expenses, actually 
shipped the lad off as middy in a merchant vessel bound 
for India, not waiting to write and ask his father's permis- 
sion. She merely wrote to say that the deed was done. 

Officious aunts do exist in the world ; but surely few so 
officious as this. The deepest displeasure was felt and 
shown when Henry's father learned what had happened. 
But by the time that his grieved remonstrances reached 
the boy, Henry was fifteen thousand miles away, ' hunting 
wild animals on the plains of Behar.' In the present day 
a boy so despatched might be sent back again ; but in 
those days India was separated from England by a vast 
gulf of distance and of time. Any one writing from India 
to England could not look for a reply in less than a year ; 
and his father was at Bermuda, not even at home, which 
made a further complication. 

The boy's condition must at first have been forlorn 
enough. After a petted and luxurious boyhood, he had to 
live for months together upon salt junk ; and his bed was 
only a hencoop. But there was ' stuff' in him, and hard- 
ships of all kinds were most pluckily endured. On landing 
at Calcutta he found himself in a strange country, among 
strange faces, without money and without work, though 
happily not quite without friends. His mother's brother, 
Mr. Bruere, was one of the Government Secretaries in Cal- 
cutta ; and in the house of Mr. Bruere and of Mr. Bruere's 
pretty little sylph-like wife the young adventurer found 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 7 

shelter for some months, until an opening could be secured 
for him. 

Fifteen years followed of a hard and continuous struggle. 
As long after he said of himself, he * looked the world in 
the face ' in those days ; and while a mere boy of fifteen or 
sixteen he set himself resolutely to get on. From the first he 
grappled with the Native languages, showing a vigour and 
persistency in the study which, many many years later, were 
visible again in his daughter Charlotte, when grappling 
with the very same task. Only he was young ; and she, 
when she followed his example, was well on in middle life. 

Towards the end of those fifteen years resolution and 
untiring energy triumphed ; and from the age of about 
thirty Mr. Tucker's rise to a good position was steady. 

In 1792 he became a member of the Bengal Civil Ser- 
vice. In 1809 he was made Secretary in the Public 
Department. But he had had heavy work and many 
troubles, and his health began to fail ; so the following 
year, after a quarter of a century of unbroken exile, he 
set off for England, carrying with him Government testi- 
monials, couched in the warmest terms. These testimonials 
spoke of his ' long and meritorious services,' of his ' pecu- 
liar abilities,' of his ' talents and acquirements of the highest 
order,' of his ' unwearied diligence,' of his ' unimpeached 
integrity.' All this, of one who, twenty-five years before, 
had landed on Indian shores an almost penniless adven- 
turer, without so much as a definite plan of what to do 
with himself and his energies ! 

That very year he was engaged, and the year after he 
was married, to Jane Boswell, daughter of a Mr. Robert 
Boswell of Edinburgh, who was related to the well-known 
biographer of Dr. Johnson. The Boswell family was known 
to have first settled in Berwickshire as far back as in the 
days of William Rufus,and afterwards in Fifeshire and Ayr- 
shire at Balmute and Auchinleck. Mr. Robert Boswell's 



8 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

grandmother, Lady Elisabeth Bruce, was a daughter of 
the first Earl of Kincardine. Mr. Boswell was a devotedly 
good and also an able man ; a minister, not in the Scottish 
Presbyterian Church, but in some smaller religious body ; 
and his death took place in a somewhat tragic manner, 
before the date of his daughter's marriage to Mr. Tucker. 
While preaching, he quoted the text which begins, ' All 

flesh is as grass ,' and as he uttered the words he fell 

back, dead ! 

A characteristic anecdote is told of his wife, — A. L. O. E.'s 
grandmother. She had a large family, and was badly off 
One day a poor woman applied to her for help ; and Mrs. 
Boswell called out to her daughter Jane, to know what 
money they happened to have in hand. ' Only one seven- 
shilling piece,' was the answer. Mrs. Boswell's voice 
sounded distinctly, — ' Give it, then ; give it to the woman.' 
' But, dear mamma, there is no more money in the house,' 
remonstrated Jane. More decisively still came the re- 
sponse, ' Give it, then ; give it to the woman.' And given 
it was. The story almost inevitably recalls that of the 
Widow's Mite ; even though from certain points of view 
one is dubious as to the wisdom of the act. 

Despite the poverty of the family Mrs. Boswell's 
daughters settled well in life. One married Mr. Egerton 
of the High Court in Calcutta ; one married Dr. Rox- 
burgh ; one married General Carnegie ; one married Mr. 
Anderson ; one only, Veronica by name, remained un- 
married ; and Jane became the wife of Henry St. George 
Tucker. She was at that time a gentle and beautiful girl of 
about twenty-one, while Mr. Tucker was already over forty. 

Early in the following year, 1812, they went out to 
India together ; and his delight was great in returning to 
the country where he had toiled so long, and had made 
many friends. This time, however, his stay in the east 
was to be brief. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 9 

His first child, Henry Carre, was born that same year ; 
and two years later came his eldest daughter, Sibella 
Jane. Also in 18 14 fell the blow of his Mother's death, 
over which, strong man that he was, he wept passionately. 
Then his wife's health seemed to be seriously failing ; 
and this decided him to leave the land of his adoption, 
throwing up all prospects in that direction. In 181 5, the 
first year of European peace, at the age of forty-five, he 
' retired from the active service of the Company,' travel- 
ling by long sea with his invalid wife and his two little 
ones, and spending some time at the Cape by the way. 
Before they arrived in England another little one, Frances 
Anne, had been added to their number. 

A home was found in Charlotte Square, Edinburgh ; 
and for some years, till 18 19 or 1820, he was well content 
to remain there, living a quiet home-life, with a little 
family growing around him. Two more boys came, 
George William and Robert Tudor, — the former dying in 
babyhood, the latter growing up to be slain in the Indian 
Mutiny. Losing the infant George was a dire trouble to 
his parents : and Mrs. Tucker, believing that he had 
succumbed to the keen cold of Edinburgh, was never at 
rest in her mind until the northern home had been ex- 
changed for one in the south. Such a change was not to 
be accomplished in a day, but in the course of time it 
came about ; and meanwhile the remaining children were 
a constant source of interest and delight. The ' baby ' at 
this date was Robert ; afterwards a very favourite elder 
brother of A. L. O. E. His children, known in the family 
by the name of ' The Robins,' became in later years as 
her own. 

Mr. Tucker could not long remain contented without 
definite work. He was still in the prime of life, still 
under fifty ; and an eager desire took hold of him to enter 
public life once more, to serve again his own country, as 



lo THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

well as the eastern land of his adoption. These pur- 
poses he thought might best be carried out by his becom- 
ing, if possible, one of the Directors of the East India 
Company. For the fulfilment of his desire — a desire, 
not for gain or wealth or position, but for the means of 
doing good — he had to wait a considerable time. He 
had indeed to wait until his next little daughter, CHAR- 
LOTTE Maria, was five years old. Then, at length, he 
was appointed Director ; one of the Twenty-four who, in 
those days, practically ruled India. Thereafter his influ- 
ence was steadfastly exerted in the direction of a wise 
and righteous government of the dark millions of Hindu- 
stan; the land in which he had spent a quarter of a 
century of his life, and to which afterward not only all 
his five sons went, but one of his five daughters also, in 
the advanced years of her life. 

While he waited for this long-desired appointment, 
other changes took place. They left their home in Edin- 
burgh and moved south, first spending some months at 
Friern Hatch, in Barnet, near Finchley ; and there it was 
that little Charlotte first saw the light of day. In 1822 
they went to live in London, settling into No. 3 Upper 
Portland Place, whence no further move was made until 
after the death of Mrs. Tucker, more than forty-five years 
later. 

In Portland Place the family was completed. Two 
years after the birth of Charlotte came her next brother, 
St. George ; two years later still her next sister, Dorothea 
Laura, her peculiar companion and friend. The three 
youngest, William, Charlton, and Clara, finished the tale 
of ten living children. 

Mr. Tucker was, as may have been already gathered, a 
man of unusual force of character and of indomitable will ; 
robust in body and mind ; unwearying in work ; self-reliant, 
yet never presumptuous ; an absolute gentleman, remark- 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER ii 

able for the polished courtesy of his bearing, alike to 
superiors, equals, and inferiors in social position ; open 
and straightforward as daylight ; firm in his own con- 
victions, but well able to look on both sides of a question, 
and liberal towards those who differed from him ; entirely 
fearless in doing what he held to be right, and entirely free 
from all thought of self-seeking. He was, as his Bio- 
grapher Mr. Kaye observes, — ' pre-eminently a man 
amongst men,' — *a statesman at eighteen, and a states- 
man at eighty.' He was also a man of deep and true re- 
ligion ; a religion not much expressed in words, but ap- 
parent in every inch of his career. In a letter written long 
after his death by his daughter Charlotte, she remarked, 
when speaking of the biography of some well-known man : 
' There is nothing to indicate that he ever said, as our 
beloved Father said, " The publican's prayer is the prayer 
of us all ! " ' Probably religious speech never came easily 
to him. His life, however, spoke more eloquently than 
mere words could have done. 

One of his main characteristics was an abounding 
generosity. He was always ready to help those who 
needed help, up to his power, and beyond his power. In 
his own home he was charming ; full of wit, full of fun, full 
of gay spirits and laughter ; full also of the tenderest 
affection for his wife and children, an affection which was 
abundantly returned. He was an intensely loving and 
lovable man ; his wonderful sweetness and evenness of 
temper, never disturbed by heavy work or pressing cares, 
endearing him to all with whom he came in contact. 
While he talked little of his own feelings, he did much for 
the good of others ; and his life was one long stretch of 
usefulness. The union in him of strength with gentleness, 
of a masterful intellect with a spirit of yielding courtesy, 
of nobility with playfulness, of generosity with self-restraint, 
of real religious conviction and experience with frolic- 



12 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

some gaiety, made a combination not more rare than 
beautiful. 

Many of his characteristics were distinctly inherited from 
him by his daughter Charlotte ; among others, his literary 
bent. He was fond of writing, and in his well-occupied 
life he found some time to indulge the play of his fancy. 
In the year 1835 he published a volume of plays and 
enigmas, called The Tragedies of Harold and CainoenSy 
dedicated to the Duke of Wellington, for whom he and his 
family had the deepest esteem and admiration. 



CHAPTER II 

A.D. 182I-1835 
CHILDHOOD AND GIRLHOOD 

Charlotte Maria Tucker was born on the 8th of 
May 1 82 1, not within the sound of Bow bells, but, as 
already stated, at Friern Hatch, in Barnet, no long time 
before the family settled down in Portland Place. 

Details of her very early life are greatly wanting. We 
should like to know how the childish intellect began to 
develop ; what first turned her thoughts into the ' writing 
line ' ; whether authorship came to her spontaneously or 
no. But few records have been kept. 

It is not indeed difficult to imagine the general char- 
acter of her childhood. She was clever, quick-witted, full 
of fun, overflowing with energy, abounding in life and 
vigour. One of a large and high-spirited family, living in 
a home of comparative comfort and ease, and surrounded 
by a wide circle of friends and acquaintances, Charlotte 
must have had a happy childhood. 

Long years after, when old and well-nigh worn out with 
her Indian campaign, she wrote — 

' It seems curious to look back to the birthday sixty-one years ago, 
when sweet Mother called me " her ten-years old." Do you remember 
my funny little cards of invitation to a feast of liquorice-wine, — 
with possibly something else, — 

' " This is the eighth of May, 
Charlotte's Happy Birthday." 

13 



14 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

' I would not change this time for that. What a proud ambitious 
little creature I was ! I have a pretty vivid recollection of my own 
character in youth. I should have liked to climb high and be 
famous.' 

In another letter she alludes to the fact that as a child 
she had been accused of ' liking to ride her high horse.' 

No doubt in those early days her ambition pointed to 
higher game than children's tales written ' with a purpose.' 

In the gay young family party, two daughters and two 
sons were older than herself. Of the latter the nearest in 
age was Robert, four years her senior, the future dying 
hero of the Indian Mutiny. * Our noble Robert' she calls 
him long after ; and there appears to have been an early 
and close tie between Robert and his ambitious, eager 
little sister. Of Fanny, too, the next sister above her in 
age, two years older than Robert, she was particularly 
fond. But t/ie tie in her life which was most of all to her, 
perhaps taking precedence of even her passionate love 
for her Father, was the bond between herself and Laura, 
the next youngest sister, about four years her junior. 
From infancy to old age these two were one, loving each 
other with an absolutely unbroken and unclouded devotion. 

The two were counted to some extent alike, though 
with differences. Laura was the gentler, the more self- 
distrustful, the more disposed to lean. Charlotte was the 
more impulsive, the more eager, the more energetic, the 
more independent, the more self-reliant. In fact, Char- 
lotte never did * lean ' upon anybody. Both were equally 
full of spirits and of frolicsome fun. 

In another letter from India to this sister, dated January 
1 8, 1886, when referring to a recent illness, she wrote — 

' My memory is very acute. I thought lately that it was a great 
shame that I never should go back to dear old No. 3, which really 
was the happy home of our childhood before our griefs. So what do 
you think, Laura dear, I did lately? I acted over in my mind 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 15 

Christmas Day, as in the old times, when you and I were girls. I 
do not think that I left out anything ; our jumping on dearest 
Mother's bed ; the new Silver ; ^ the Holly and the Mistletoe ; 
the Christmas Box ; the choosing the gowns ; the Cake, etc. Then 
I went to Trinity Church ; I heard the glorious old hymn, " High let 
us swell triumphant notes." It was such a nice meditation. Then 
Aunt Anderson and her dear daughters came for dinner. Of course 
Aunt had her little yellow sugar-plum box ! ' 

It is a pretty and vivid description of the olden days in 
that dear old home, always spoken of among themselves 
as ' Number Three,' which she loved ardently to the last. 
Charlotte's affections for everything connected with her 
youth were of a very enduring nature. 

Another short extract from her later letters may be 
given here, describing something of what the loved 
sister Laura was to her in those early days. It is dated 
December 10, 1892. 

' My Laura loved me so fondly ; we were so close to each other. 
How we used to share each other's thoughts from youth, as we 
shared the same room ! Our honoured Father loved to hear his 
Laura's merry ringing laugh ; when we chatted together he would 
say to her favourite sister,' — meaning herself — ' " She coinbines so 
much.^'' I doubt that he saw any imperfection in a being so bright, 
so sweet.' 

And in yet one more letter to this same Laura, dated 
November i, 1884 — 

' You underrate your own qualifications as a companion, darling. 
Don't I know you of old, how playful and genial you are, as well as 
loving .''... You are choice company for a tete-a-tete.^ 

The earliest writing of Charlotte's which comes to hand 
is indorsed, 'Charlotte, 1832,' and is addressed to ' Miss 

1 It was a custom in the family, through several generations, to give a 
Christmas present to each child of new silver, the amount given being one 
shilling for each year of age, and sixpence in addition. Thus, a child of ten 
would receive ten and sixpence, all in new silver. 



i6 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

D. L. Tucker, 3 Upper Portland Place.' It is a valentine 
written to her sister ; and it shows that at the early age of 
eleven she had at least begun a little versifying ; usually 
the line first adopted by incipient authors. 

' The snow-drops sweet that grace the plain 
Are emblems, love, of you, 
With innocence and beauty blest 
Pure as the morning dew. 

' Sweet rosebud, free from every storm 
Of life, may peace incline 
To hover ever round thy bed, 
My dearest Valentine.' 

Another early effort, undated, but possibly a year or 
two later, is addressed, ' To Dolly, the sweet little bud of 
the morn,' — no doubt to the same favourite sister, Dorothea 
Laura. 

' Sweet bud of the morning, what poet can speak 
The glories that beam in thy eye 1 
The rosebuds that bloom on thy fat little cheek, — 
And thy round head so stuffed full of Latin and Greek, 
Arithmetic and Geology. 

' I send you a character-teller, my love, 

'Tis little and poor, but it may 
My kindness, affection, etcetera^ prove, 
And show you, my dear little Dolly, I strove 

To make mine a happy birthday.' 

What the 'character-teller' may have been it is diffi- 
cult even to conjecture. Since Laura was four years her 
junior, the Latin, Greek and Geology were of course 
meant in the symbolical sense, standing for learning in 
general. 

One more apparently early effort remains ; not this 
time versification, but a birthday letter to Laura, inscribed, 
' To my dear Lady Emma, from her affectionate Tosti.' 
Why Lady Emma? — and why Tosti? In these three 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 17 

effusions the handwritings are curiously unlike one 
another, though all are childish. One is large and un- 
formed ; another is small and cramped ; the third is neat 
and of a copperplate description. It may be that her 
writing was long before it crystallized into any definite 
shape; often the case with many-sided people. But for 
the juvenile handwriting, it would be almost impossible 
to believe that the following middle-aged production was 
not written in later years. Children were, however, in 
those days taught to express themselves like grown 
people ; and no doubt she counted that she had accom- 
plished her task well. 

' Many joyful returns of this day to you, dearest Laura, and may 
each find you better and happier than the last. I send you a Httle 
piece of velvet, which you may find useful, for I do not think you 
will value a present only for the money it costs ; and I dare say you 
will agree with me that a trifle from an affectionate friend is often 
more valuable than great gifts from those who love you not. 

' I hope, dearest Lautie, you may enjoy a very 'particularly happy 
birthday, and that you may have as few sorrows in the year you are 
just entering as in that you have just passed. — Accept my kindest 
love, and believe me to be 

' Your affectionate friend and sister, 

' C. M. T.' 

This letter may have been some years later than the 
two copies of verses ; but that hardly does away with 
the difficulty. The style is almost as pedantic for the age 
of sixteen or seventeen as for the age of ten or twelve. 

Side by side with the intense devotion for her sister 
Laura, there was a considerable degree of reticence in 
Charlotte's nature. It may have developed more fully as 
time went on ; yet it must surely have been a part of her- 
self even in childhood. It was not with her a superficial 
reserve, an acted reticence, such as may sometimes be 
seen in essentially shallow women. On the surface she 
B 



1 8 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

was free, frank, chatty, quick in response, ready to con- 
verse, full of liveliness, fun, and repartee. But underlying 
the freedom and brightness there was a habit of silence 
about her own affairs — that is to say, about affairs which 
concerned only and exclusively herself — which to some 
extent was a life-long characteristic. 

Neither Charlotte nor any of her sisters ever went to 
school. Their father had a very pronounced objection to 
schools for girls ; indeed, he had himself made an early 
resolution never to marry any girl who had been educated 
at school, and he kept that resolution. The same idea 
was followed out with his own daughters. A daily gover- 
ness came in to superintend their studies ; and occasional 
masters were provided. In reference to the latter Char- 
lotte wrote, many years afterward, to a niece : ' No one 
can do as much for us in the way of education as we can 
do for ourselves. A willing mind is like a steam-engine, 
and carries one on famously. When I was young my 
beloved parents did not feel able to give us many masters. 
We knew that, and it made us more anxious to profit by 
what we had.' 

Twenty-five years of hard toil in India had not made a 
rich man of Mr. Tucker ; nor did his position as a Director 
bring him wealth. It was his daughter's pride in after- 
life to know that he had died comparatively poor, because 
of his inviolable sense of honour. Not that more money 
would not have been acceptable ! Ten children, in- 
cluding five sons, to be launched in life, are a serious 
pull upon any purse of ordinary capacity ; and Mr. Tucker 
was of an essentially generous nature. He had many 
relatives, many friends, and the demands upon his purse 
were numerous. On a certain occasion he gave away 
about one-quarter of his whole capital, a sum amounting to 
several thousands of pounds, to help a relative in a great 
emergency. One who met him immediately afterwards 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 19 

spoke of his appearing to have suddenly grown into an 
old man. 

In Charlotte's earlier years anxiety as to money matters 
was often experienced ; and recurring Christmastides saw 
a repeated difficulty in making both ends meet. This state 
of things continued up till about the year 1837, when an 
unlooked-for legacy was left to Mr. Tucker, as a token of 
great esteem, by a friend, Mr. Brough. Besides the main 
legacy to Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, the sum of two hundred 
pounds came to each of the children, and was treated as a 
* nest-egg ' for each. From this date serious pressure 
ceased, and Mr. Tucker became able to meet the various 
calls upon him ; not indeed without care and economy, 
but without a perpetual weight of uneasiness. Some few 
years later another friend, Mr. Maclew, left another legacy 
in the same kind and unexpected manner. 

These facts serve to explain the paucity of masters when 
Charlotte was young. But the sisters bravely accepted 
the condition of things, and worked hard to make up for 
any disadvantages. One distinct gain in such a home 
education was that at least they were free to develop 
each in her own natural lines, instead of being all trimmed 
as far as possible into one shape. 

Charlotte's ' lines ' were many in number. 

She had a marked talent for drawing, and could take 
likenesses of her friends ; good as regarded the salient 
features, though apt to grow into more of caricatures than 
the young artist intended. Musical gifts also were hers, 
including an almost painfully sensitive ear. Though her 
voice was never really very good, she sang much ; and 
while well able to take a second at sight, she was in after 
years equally ready to undertake any other part in a glee, 
inclusive of the bass, which often fell to her share when a 
man's voice happened to be lacking. 

A gift for teaching showed itself early ; and as a child 



20 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

she would try to impress geographical facts upon her 
younger brothers and sisters by an original system of her 
own. In the Park Crescent Gardens, near Portland Place, 
— their playground ; described by one friend in those days 
as a 'jungle/ because of its unkempt condition, — she would 
name one bed England, another France, another Germany, 
and so on, and would thus fix in the children's minds 
their various positions, though the shapes and sizes of the 
beds were by no means always what they ought to have 
been. That the mode of instruction was effective is evi- 
dent from the fact that her brother, Mr. St. George Tucker, 
can recall the lessons still, after the lapse of fifty years, 
and can say, ' By that means I learnt that England was in 
the north-west corner of Europe.' 

Another direction in which she excelled was that of 
dancing. Even in walking she possessed a peculiarly 
springy step, remarked by all who knew her ; and this in 
dancing was a great advantage. She was at home alike 
in the dignified minuet and in the active gavotte, and she 
would perform the pas de basque with much spirit. Indeed 
dancing was an exercise in which she found immense en- 
joyment through half a century of life. 

At home Charlotte was a leader in the games, herself 
flowing over with fun and frolic. Her fertile imagination 
left her never at a loss for schemes of amusement. Natur- 
ally eager, impulsive, vehement, she had from be- 
ginning to end an extraordinary amount of energy, 
and in childhood her vigour must have been almost un- 
tirable. 

One can imagine how the house echoed with the gay 
voices and laughter of the young people, as they pursued 
their various games, led by the indefatigable Charlotte. 
Mr. Tucker loved the sound of those merry voices ; and 
when he could join them he was probably the merriest 
of the whole party. At one period, heavy and long- 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 21 

continued work in 'clearing up the finances' of the East 
India Company kept him much apart from the family 
circle ; and the delight was great when he could leave his 
big dry books, and be as a boy among the children 
again. 

Bella, the elder girl, was pretty and of gracious manners, 
with dark eyes, and with a capacity for dressing herself 
well upon the very moderate allowance which her father 
was able to bestow. Fanny, the next sister, though not 
at all handsome, had also soft dark eyes, and a peculiarly 
sweet disposition ; and she too dressed nicely. It was 
commonly said amongst themselves that Fanny was 'the 
gentle sister,' and that Charlotte was ' the clever heroic 
sister.' But Charlotte was not gifted with the art of dress- 
ing well. 

In those early days, and for many a year afterwards, it 
would not appear that gentleness or sweetness were char- 
acteristics belonging to Charlotte. They were of far later 
growth, developing only under long pressure of loss and 
trial. In her childhood and girlhood, though doubtless 
she could be both winning and tender to the few whom 
she intensely loved, yet it was impossible to describe her 
generally by any such adjectives. She was chiefly re- 
markable for her spring and energy, her originality and 
cleverness, her wild spirits, and her lofty determination. 
With all her liveliness, however, she was in no sense a 
madcap, being thoroughly a lady. 

In appearance Charlotte was never good-looking ; and 
in girlhood she could not have been pretty ; though there 
was always an indescribable charm in the vivid life and 
the ever-varying expression of her face. 

One friend remembers hearing her tell a story of her 
young days, bearing upon this question of personal 
appearance. With a mirror and a hand-glass she ex- 
amined her own face, the profile as well as the full face, 



22 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

and evidently she was not satisfied with the result. A 
wise resolution followed. Since she ' could never be 
pretty/ she determined that she ' would try to be good, 
and to do all the good in the world that she could.' It 
was a resolve well carried out. 

This sounds like a curious echo of an early experience 
of her father. When a boy of about ten, he caught small- 
pox, and ' came forth,' as he related of himself long after, 
'most wofully disfigured. . . . "Well," observed one of 
my aunts, " you have now, Henry, lost all your good looks, 
and you have nothing for it but to make yourself agreeable 
by your manners and accomplishments." Here was cold 
comfort ; but the words made an impression upon my 
mind, and may possibly have had some influence on my 
future life.' 

And much the same thought is reproduced in Charlotte 
Tucker's own clever and amusing little book, My Neigh- 
bour's Shoes, — when, as Archie gazes into the mirror, he 
says of himself, ' One thing is evident ; as I can't be 
admired for my beauty, I must make myself liked in 
some other way. I '11 be a jolly good-natured little 
soul' 

In girlish days it may have been a prominent idea with 
Charlotte. By nature she not only was impulsive, but she 
no doubt inherited some measure of her great-grandfather 
Bruere's irascible temper ; and the amount of self-control 
speedily developed by one of so impetuous a temperament 
is remarkable. High principle had sway at a very early 
age ; but this thought, that her lack of good looks might 
be compensated for by good humour and kindness to 
others, may also have been a motive of considerable 
power in the formation of her character. 

It must be added that not all thought so ill of her 
looks as Charlotte herself did. An artist of repute, who 
saw her in the later days of her Indian career, has said 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 23 

unhesitatingly, in reply to a query on this subject, — 
* Plain ! No ! A face with such a look of intellect as 
Miss Tucker's could never be plain.' If matters were 
thus in old age, the same might surely have been said 
when she was young. But beauty of feature she did not 
possess. 

In addition to her other gifts, Charlotte had something 
at least of dramatic power, and in her own home-circle 
she was a spirited actress. 

Mr. Tucker's published volume of plays and enigmas 
has been already named. Both Harold and Camoens 
were acted by the young folk of the family, with the rest 
of their number for audience. It is uncertain whether any 
outside friends were admitted on these occasions. 

In the second play Charlotte took the part of the 
heroine, Theodora ; and her brother, St. George, took the 
part of Ferdinand. Camoens, the hero, is betrayed to the 
Inquisition by Theodora ; the betrayal being caused by a 
fit of fierce jealousy on the part of Theodora, who loves, 
and is apparently loved by, Camoens. The jealousy has 
some foundation, since Camoens decides to marry, not 
Theodora but Clara. Theodora in her wrath is helped 
by another lover, Ferdinand, to carry out her plot, and 
together they bring a false charge against Ferdinand, who 
is speedily landed in the dungeons of the Inquisition. 
Theodora then, finding that Clara does not love Camoens, 
and repenting too late her deed, goes mad with remorse. 
Camoens is after all set at liberty, none the worse for his 
imprisonment ; but the distracted Theodora, meeting her 
other lover and her companion in evil-doing, Ferdinand, 
attacks him vehemently, with these words — 

' Theod. Ha ! Ferdinand ! 

Thou hast recalled a name ! 

It brings some dreadful recollections. 

'Twas he who basely did betray my husband. 



24 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Go, wretched man ! bring back the murdered Camoens ! 

Go, make thy peace. {^SJie stabs Jiim.) 
BiAN. Oh ! help ! 
Ferd. 1 bless the hand that gave the wound. 

Thou hast redeemed me from a deadly sin, 

Or mortal suffering. 

Farewell, beloved unhappy Theodora. 

Guard her, ye pitying angels ! 
Theod. Where am I .? 

What have I done ? 

I have some strange impression of a dream — 

A fearful dream of death. 

Young Ferdinand, who loved me ! 

Dead — dead — and by this desperate hand ! ' 

After which Clara enters, and Theodora dies, complet- 
ing the tragedy. One can picture the force and energy 
with which Charlotte would have poured forth her re- 
proaches upon the head of Ferdinand, before giving him 
the fatal stab. 

It may have been somewhere about this time — it was 
at all events before the year 1842 — that Charlotte had 
once a scientific fit, and for several weeks threw herself 
with ardour into the study of Chemistry. At intervals in 
her life a marked interest is shown in certain scientific 
facts or subjects; sufficient, perhaps, to indicate that, had 
the bent been cultivated, she might possibly have shown 
some measure of power in that direction also. Books on 
Natural History always proved an attraction to her ; and 
many little Natural History facts come incidentally into 
her correspondence, sometimes given from her own ob- 
servation. In later years she even wrote two or three 
little books for children on semi-scientific subjects, — not 
without making mistakes, from the common error of 
trusting to old instead of to new authorities. But the 
early influences with which she was surrounded were not 
of a kind to call forth this tendency, if indeed it existed in 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 25 

any but a very slight degree. Her Father's bent was 
strongly poetical and classical ; and probably his influence 
over her mind in girlhood was stronger than any other. 
The poetic and the scientific may, and sometimes do, exist 
side by side ; but the combination is not very usual. 

A great event of Charlotte's young days was the fancy- 
dress ball given by her parents in the spring of 1835. 
The Duke of Wellington himself was present ; prominent 
still in the minds of men as the Deliverer of Europe, only 
twenty years earlier, from a tyrant's thraldom. All the 
young Tuckers, not to speak of their parents, were ardent 
admirers of the Duke. Laura, still a mere child, in her 
enthusiasm slipped close up behind, when the Duke was 
ascending the stairs, and gently abstracted a fallen hair 
from the shoulder of the hero, which hair she preserved 
ever after among her choicest treasures ; and Charlotte 
was no whit behind Laura in this devotion. 

At the ball Frances made her appearance dressed as 
Queen Elizabeth, — 'very neat and very stately,' — while 
Charlotte represented ' the star of the morning,' in a dress 
of pure muslin, full and well starched, so nicely made and 
so beautifully white that the impression of it lasts still in 
the mind of a brother, after the lapse of more than half a 
century. The prettiness of her dress on that particular 
occasion was no doubt accentuated by the fact that in 
general Charlotte did not attire herself becomingly ; and 
also by the fact of another young lady being present as a 
second 'star of the morning.' For the other 'star' had 
hired a dress for the evening ; a muslin dress, which 
was by no means white, but dingy and tumbled. In 
contrast, Charlotte's pure whiteness, relieved by a star 
upon her forehead, drew much attention. Since she was 
then only a girl of about fourteen, it appears that a close 
distinction was not drawn in those days, as in these, 
between girls 'out' and girls 'not out.' Her brother, St. 



26 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

George, a boy of twelve or thirteen, was also present, 
wearing a Highland costume. 

The hero of the day appeared in evening dress, accord- 
ing to the then fashion, with a star on his breast. Frances, 
in her queenly apparel, presented him with a bag which 
contained a Commission to defend England, — a business 
which, one is disposed to think, he had already pretty 
well accomplished ! The Duke received this offering 
graciously ; and a day or two later the following playful 
letter arrived from him to Mr. Tucker : — 

' Strathfieldsaye. 
Ap. 26, 1835. 

' My dear Sir,— When Queen Elizabeth gave me that beautiful 
bag on Friday night, I was not aware that it contained a Letter 
Patent which I prize highly ; and for which I ought to have returned 
my grateful acknowledgment at the time it was delivered. 

' I beg you to present my thanks ; and to express my hopes that 
her Majesty continued to enjoy the pleasures of the evening ; and 
that she has not been fatigued by them. 

' Ever, my dear Sir, 

' Your most faithful humble servant, 
(Signed) 'Wellington. 
' H. St. George Tucker, Esq., etc' 

The delight and enthusiasm ainongst the young people, 
aroused by this letter, may be imagined. It seems to have 
come later into the possession of Charlotte ; and when 
she went to India it was presented by her to her sister 
Laura, — the envelope which contained it having in 
Charlotte's handwriting the following inscription : — 

' What / consider one of my most valuable possessions, 
and therefore send to my beloved L^aura^ to whom it will 
recall past days' 



CHAPTER III 

A.D. 1835-1848 

EARLY WRITINGS 

One after another the brothers of Charlotte went out to 
India. Henry Carre, the eldest, well known in Indian 
story, had left in 1831, when she was only ten years old ; 
and in 1835 her particular companion, Robert, went also. 
He was a tall, handsome young fellow ; and though only 
eighteen years old, he had already done well in his 
studies. At Haileybury his remarkable abilities won him 
the admiration of the Professors ; and at his last examina- 
tion for the Civil Service he signalised himself by actually 
carrying off /our gold medals. 

Among other gifts he had a keen touch of satire, and a 
power of easy versification. Some of the early verses 
preserved show considerable power, and are very spirited 
as well as amusing. A main feature of his character was, 
however, his intense earnestness. He was of the same 
stern and heroic cast of mind as Charlotte herself; with 
perhaps less fun and sparkle to lighten the sternness. 
Like her, he was markedly self-reliant, and was never 
known to lean upon the opinion of others. 

With all Charlotte's gaiety and merriment, her delight 
in dancing and acting, and her love of games, there was a 
stern side, even in those early days, to her girlish nature ; 
and in this respect she and Robert were well suited the 
one to the other. She was, as one says who knew her well, 

27 



28 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

' a born heroine ' ; indeed, both she and Robert were of the 
stuff of which in former centuries martyrs have been made. 

At what date Charlotte first began to think seriously 
upon religious questions it Is not possible to say. Probably 
at a very early age. Underlying her high spirits was a 
stratum of deep thought ; and strong principle seems 
almost from the beginning to have held control over her 
life. One of her brothers speaks of her as ' aUvays 
religious.' She may have thought and may have felt to 
any extent, without expression in words of what she 
thought or felt. The innate reticence, which veiled so 
much of herself from others, would naturally in early 
years extend itself to matters of religion. Later in life 
reserve broke down in that direction ; but silence in girl- 
hood was no proof whatever of indifference. 

An undated letter to her niece, Miss Laura Veronica 
Tucker, written in middle life, gives us something of a 
clue here. 

' I am much interested in hearing from your dear Mother that 
you are so soon to take upon you the vows made for you in Baptism, 
and I wish specially to remember you, my love, in prayer on 
the 1 8th. 

'To-morrow, too, you attain the age of fifteen. ... I was about 
your age, dear Laura, when the feeling of being His— of indeed 
having the Saviour as ///y own Saviour, came upon me like a flood 
of daylight. I was so happy ! This was a little time before my 
Confirmation. Though I have often often done wrong since, and 
shed many many tears, I have never ^'in'^e lost the light shed on me 
then, and now it brightens all the future, so that I can scarcely say 
that I have any care as regards myself — the Lord will take care of 
me in advancing age — in the last sickness — in what is called death, 
(it is only its shadow).' 

To the majority of people religious conviction and 
experience come as daylight comes ; not In one sudden 
burst, but gradually, heralded by grey dawn, slowly un- 
folding into brightness. Brought up as Charlotte was in 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 29 

an atmosphere of kindness, of gentleness, of unselfish 
thought for others, of generosity, of high principle, and of 
most real religion, albeit not much talked about, she 
would naturally imbibe the latter almost unconsciously, 
and as naturally would say little. The spiritual life, 
begun early in her, would expand and develop year 
by year, as fresh influences came, each in turn help- 
ing to shape the young ardent nature. 

She was essentially independent ; one who would of 
necessity think questions out for herself, and form her 
own opinions ; and when an opinion was once formed, 
she would act in accordance with that opinion, fearlessly 
and conscientiously. All this came as a logical result of 
what she was in herself. But the very independence 
was of gradual growth ; and side by side with it existed 
always a spirit of beautiful and reverent submission to 
her Father and Mother. 

Although she never published anything during her 
Father's lifetime — whether because she was slow to 
recognise her own capabilities, or because he failed to 
encourage the idea, does not distinctly appear, — her pen 
was often busy. A small magazine or serial in manuscript, 
for family use, was early started among the brothers and 
sisters, and to this, as might be expected, Charlotte was a 
frequent contributor. 

She also wrote several plays, following in her Father's 
footsteps ; and some of these are extant, not zvritten but 
exquisitely printed by her own hand. She was indeed an 
adept at such printing, as at many other things ; and 
one amusing story is told anent this particular gift. 
About 1840, when her brother St. George was at Hailey- 
bury College, the latter wrote an essay, which was copied 
for him by Charlotte in small printed characters. Where- 
upon a rumour went through the College that one of 
the competitors had actually had his essay printed for 



30 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

the occasion. Inquiries were made ; and the ' printed copy ' 
was discovered to be the essay of Mr. St. George Tucker. 
The earhest in date of these unpubHshed plays, com- 
posed for the entertainment of the home-circle, appears to 
have been The Iron Mask ; achieved in 1839, when Char- 
lotte was about eighteen years old. It was ' Dedicated, 
with the fondest esteem and affection, to her beloved 
Father, Henry St. George Tucker, to whom she is indebted 
for the outline of the characters and plot, by the Author, 
Charlotte Maria Tucker.' By which Dedication may be 
plainly seen that Mr. Tucker encouraged his daughter's 
literary bent, so far as actual writing went, though he does 
not seem to have helped her into print. The Preface to this 
early work is quaint enough to be worth quoting. The 
young Author had evidently studied Miss Edgeworth's 
style. 

' I cannot pretend to offer that most common excuse of Authors 
that their works have been written in great haste and consequently 
under great disadvantages. I have been a considerable time about 
my little performance, and its defects are not owing to want of care 
or attention on my part. 

' I once had thoughts of myself writing a Critique on TJie Iro7i 
Mask, to show that I am sensible of its faults, though I do not think 
I have the power to remove at least all of them. But I have dropped 
the idea, and am determined to leave them to be found out, or 
perhaps overlooked, by the eye of partiality and affection.' 

The play is, of course, historical, and is of considerable 
length. One short quotation may be given as a specimen 
of her girlish powers, taken from Scene II. 

' Apartme7it in the Castle of Chateauroiige : a grated luijidow 
see?t in the background. 

The Iron Mask. 

' The glorious Sun hath reached the farthest west. 
And clouds transparent tipt with living fire 
Hang o'er his glory, bright'ning to the close. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 31 

Now gently-falling dews refresh the earth, 
And pensive Silence, hand in hand with Night, 
Already claims her reign. 

Another day 
Has past ! another weary weary day. 
And I am so much nearer to my grave I 
Oh that I could, like yon broad setting Sun, 
For one day tread the path of Liberty, 
For one day shine a blessing to my Country, 
Then, like him, set in glory ! 

Still come they not ? — then Chateaurouge deceived me ! 
He said e'er sunset that they must be here, 
And I have watched from the first blush of morn, 
Before the lark his cheerful matins sung, 
Before the glorious traveller of the skies 
Had with one ray of gold illumed the east, 
And still they come not ! — 'Tis in vain to watch. 
They will not come to-night ! — my sinking heart 
For one day more must sicken in suspense.' 

The writing of the play as a whole is unequal, — what 
girl of eighteen is not unequal ? — but in these lines, as well 
as elsewhere, there are tokens of genuine power, alike 
poetical and dramatic. 

Next came, in the year 1840, The Fatal Vozv ; a 
Tragedy in Th7'ee Acts ; on the title-page of which is 
found a dedication — ' To Jane Tucker ; the Mother who 
in the bloom of youth and beauty devoted herself to her 
children, and whose tender care can never by them be 
repaid.' The play was written in less than two months ; 
its scene being laid in Arabia, while the characters are of 
Arabian nationality. It is an ambitious and spirited effort 
for a girl under twenty. 

Two years later she wrote another. The Pretender ; a 
Farce in Two Acts \ respectfully dedicated to * Fair 
Isabella, the Flower of the East.' This witty and amusing 
little farce shall be given entire in the next chapter, as a 
fair example of what she was able to accomplish at the 



32 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

age of twenty-one. It also shows conclusively her love of 
fun, and the manner in which she delighted in any play 
upon words. 

In 1842, the same year which saw her produce TJie Pre- 
tender^ her brother St. George went out to India ; and two 
years later a paper of extracts from different letters, in her 
handwriting, records the sister's loving pride in the warm 
opinions sent home about that brother. Also the same 
paper contains an account of an affair in which he was 
engaged ; but the said account not being correct in all 
details, I give it in different words. 

In 1844, one year and a quarter after the arrival of Mr. 
St. George Tucker in India, he volunteered to assist his 
joint magistrate, Mr. Robert Thornhill, to capture the 
celebrated dacoit,^ Khansah. Upon the receipt of further 
orders from his chief magistrate, Mr. Thornhill decided 
not to make the attempt. Mr. Tucker, however, having 
volunteered, thought it was his duty to go ; and go he 
did, accompanied by a Thannadar,- four horsemen, and 
some Burkandahs. On a January morning, in early 
dawn, they reached the village in which the dacoit leader, 
Khansah, was supposed to be concealed ; and after many 
inquiries they induced an alarm.ed little native boy to 
point out silently which hut sheltered Khansah. 

Leaving the horsemen and the Burkandahs outside, Mr. 
Tucker and the Thannadar went into the courtyard of the 
house. In the darkness of the entry to one of the huts 
stood Khansah, holding a loaded blunderbuss. At first 
he was unperceived ; but suddenly the Thannadar ex- 
claimed, ' There he is ! ' and as Mr. Tucker turned to the 
right, Khansah fired off the blunderbuss. The Thannadar 
dropped dead ; and Mr. Tucker's right arm fell helpless, 
from a wound in the shoulder. He climbed quickly over 
the low walls of a roofless hut, then turned about, and 

1 One of a band of robbers. 2 Chief police-officer. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 33 

with his left hand steadying the right hand on the top of 
the outer wall, he fired his pistol at the dacoit, — and 
missed him. Mr. Tucker then went round the back of 
the hut to a tree which stood near the entrance ; and 
shortly afterward Khansah came out, calling — ' Kill the 
Sahib ! ' A struggle followed between Khansah and one 
of the native police, which lasted some three or four 
minutes. Then Khansah, having apparently had enough, 
made away on the Thannadar's pony ; and Mr. Tucker, 
regaining his own horse, rode back to the station, accom- 
panied by the Burkandahs and horsemen, who had carefully 
kept in the background when most needed, but whose 
courage returned so soon as the peril was over. 

Eighteen months later an offer was made by Government 
of ten thousand rupees to any one who should give up 
Khansah, — the dacoit being a very notorious robber and 
murderer. His own relatives responded promptly to this 
appeal, and Khansah speedily found himself in durance 
vile. Mr. Tucker failed to identify the man in Court ; 
but other evidence was forthcoming, and Khansah, being 
convicted, was hung. Charlotte, when noting down par- 
ticulars of the above stirring episode, observes : ' We 
cannot feel too thankful to a merciful God for my precious 
George's preservation.' The brief account which she 
copied out from the letter of a friend in India ends 
with these words : ' My husband tells me he (Mr. 
Tucker) acted with great spirit, and showed much cool, 
determined courage, and deserved great credit ; but from 
being almost a stranger to the habits of this country, he 
failed in his attempt to capture the dacoit.' 

Another paper of copied extracts has a particular inter- 
est, because it seems to show, even then, a dawning sense 
in the mind of Charlotte Tucker of the needs of heathen 
and semi-heathen lands. The sheet is dated 1844; and 
the passages are selected from a book of the day, called 
C 



34 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Savage Life and Scenes. But probably at that period 
nothing- was further from her dreams than that she herself 
would ever go out as a missionary to the East. 

The following undated letters belong to the years 1846-7. 
A little sentence in the first, as to the solution of Mr. 
Tucker's enigma, is very characteristic of one who through 
life was always peculiarly ready to give praise to others, 

TO MISS D. LAURA TUCKER. 

' How sweet, good, and kind you are ! I hardly know how to 
thank you and dearest Mother for sitch notes as I have received from 
both, but I truly feel your kindness at my heart. . . . 

' My eye is exceedingly improved. Such a fuss has been made 
about it here by my affectionate Fannies, that one might suppose 
that, like your friend Polyphemus, I had but one eye, and that as 
rudely treated as was his by Ulysses. 

'We think that the solution of my noble Father's enigma is 
" Glass" or " Mirror." Fanny was the first to imagine this. As for 
going to Gresford the 3rd of next month, I do not wish to be one 
of the party at all, at all ! I calculate that Robin will then have been 
on the waves 76 days ; and though I do not expect him till October, 

the S may be a fast sailer, and fast sailers have accomplished 

the whole voyage in about that time, I believe. I drink the port 
wine which Papa brought down, which I hope may serve instead of 
bark.' 

TO MISS SIBELLA J. TUCKER. 

' Having concluded my reading of old Russell, how can I do better 
than employ the interval before the arrival of the Indian letters in 
sitting down and writing to my fair absent sister ? Colonel Sykes 
let me know last night that Robin would not come by this mail, 
which was, he says, only from Bombay, so that letters being all we 
must expect before Saturday fortnight, you need not hurry home on 
account of Robin's return. 

' Now doubtless you would like to hear a little how the world in 
Portland Place has been going on since your fair countenance dis- 
appeared from our horizon. In the first place all the three Misses 

are coming. A comical party we shall have ! There has been 

no letter from Lord Metcalfe yet, that I know of. We had a very 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 35 

nice evening yesterday. I wish that yours may have been equally 
agreeable. The beginning was by no means the worst part of it. I 
dressed early, and while Mam.ma and Fanny were upstairs, Charlie 
and I enjoyed quite a stream of melody from my dear Father, who 
sang us more than twenty songs, most of which I had never heard 
before. I wonder that he did not sing his throat quite dry, particu- 
larly after a Wednesday's work. I must now write Lautie an 
account of the Ball.' 

TO MISS D. L. TUCKER. 

' Well, dearest Lautie, we had a nice Ball last night. There were 

the Vukeels of S , with their dark intelligent countenances, 

Colonel Sykes, your friend, who is really becoming quite a friend of 
mine, and honest, handsome Sir Henry Pottinger, the very look of 
whom does one good. I chatted with both the latter amusing 
gentlemen, and heard from Sir Henry a circumstantial account of 
his attack of gout, when, he said : " I felt as though I could have 
roared like a bull." Sir Henry thinks that ladies should have a glass 
of champagne after every dance, quadrille, waltz, or polka ! " You 
would see," said he, "if my plan were followed, how many ladies 
would come." . . . Papa has had applications for cadetships from 

Lord Jocelyn and H T . I suppose that in both cases it 

will be, " I wish you may get it !"' 

TO THE SAME. 

' We have had such an amusing breakfast. Lord Glenelg was 
here. And he and Mamma have been making us laugh so, — he with 
his quiet jokes, and dear Mamma with her naivete. Mamma very 
freely criticised Sir R. Peel's and Lord John Russell's manner of 
speaking, to the great amusement of our guest, who threw out a hint 
that he might inform, and that Mamma had compromised herself. 
" It would be rather awkward," he observed, " if I were to sit 
beside Sir Robert this evening,^ after what has passed " ; and when 
he heard that Sir Robert was not to be present, he hinted that 
Mamma was in the same danger in regard to Lord John Russell. 
" But if I tell him that he opens his mouth too wide," said Lord 
Glenelg, "he may think I mean that he eats too much ! " 

1 At the Official East India Company's dinner, given by the Directors ; ladies 
being admitted to a gallery as spectators. 



36 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

' I am sure that our guest enjoyed his morning's gossip, and it 
gave us all a merry commencement to what I hope may be a very 
enjoyable though rather anxious day. Tudor is to take luncheon 
with us, so we have amusement provided for that meal also ; and 
what a business it will be in the evening ! Such a phalanx of 
ladies as dear Mother is to head. The Misses Cotton, two Misses 
Galloway, two Misses Shepherd, Miss Kensington, and our three 
selves, all to set off from No. 3 ! It will look like a nocturnal 
wedding. 

' I have just come in from paying a round of visits, with a card of 
admission in my hand. . . . My hand trembles with the heat, for it 
is warm walking at this hour, and I always walk fast when I walk 
in the streets alone. I look forward with much pleasure to the 
evening's entertainment. I only wish that you and dear Bella 
could enjoy it too ; but I hope that your dinner in Septem- 
ber may afford you as much gratification as this would have 
done. . . . 

' We . . . went to Mrs. Bellasis' Ball last night. Mamma and I 
thought it a nice one, but considered it very dull. The East- 
wicks were not there, but your friend. Colonel Sykes, appeared, with 
his stern bandit-like countenance. He so reminds me of you ! His 
fair lady and sons were also there. . . . Sir de Lacy and Lady Evans, 
the Hinxmans and Galloways were also at the Ball. 

' How are the dear little Robins ? I hope that we may soon have 
them with us again. Pray give them plenty of kisses from Auntie 
Charlotte. ... I hope dear Robin got home comfortably.' 

Some of the above-mentioned names were of men well 
and widely known. Lord Metcalfe, at one time Acting 
Governor-General of India, was a wise and most courteous 
Indian statesman, whose life has been written by Sir John 
Kaye. Colonel Sykes was one year Chairman of the 
Court of Directors. Sir Henry Pottinger was a famous 
diplomatist. Lord Glenelg, living near, was often in and 
out, and loved to have a cup of tea at hospitable No. 3. 

The habit of the family at this time, while spending the 
main part of the year at Portland Place, was to go to some 
country place in the summer, for several weeks, sometimes 
renting a house where they could stay all together, some- 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 37 

times breaking into smaller parties. In 1846 they were 
at Heme Bay ; in 1847 at Gresford ; in 1848 at Dover and 
Walmer. While at Walmer they were a good deal thrown 
with the Duke of Wellington, and the former acquaintance- 
ship ripened into more of intimacy. Before deciding on 
Walmer, two or three of the party went to Dover, and they 
had a somewhat perilous voyage thither, to which the 
following letter makes allusion : — 

TO MISS D. LAURA TUCKER. 

' I hope that you will all write us very affectionate letters of con- 
gratulation on our escape from the waves. How talented it was in 
Mamma to manage to send us letters so soon ! We had no idea of 
hearing from home by 6 o'clock on Monday morning. We are all 
quite well. I was not well yesterday morning, — I imagine from the 
effects of our adventure ; but I am, like the rest of our dear party, 
quite well to-day. 

' We are to set out in a pony-chaise for Walmer, to see about a 
house. Papa is to drive, and I have no doubt but that we shall have 
a delightful little excursion. 

'The immense cliff is a great objection to Dover. Unless we 
undergo the great fatigue of getting up it, we should be quite 
prisoners. Walmer is much flatter. We are anxious to hear what 
has become of the poor Emerald. She landed us here on Saturday 
morning, and proceeded on her perilous journey at about five in the 
afternoon. Papa saw the carpenters wife, who told him that the 
leak could not be got at because of the coals, that they would not get 
to Boulogne, but must return in two hours. The poor woman's 
husband was in the vessel. She said that her eyes were tired with 
looking at the steamer, but philosophically observed that those who 
are doomed to sup salt water must sup it. The Emerald has not 
returned, however. It is probable that she has put in to some other 
port. I should like to hear about her fate. I should feel for our kind 
sailor. 

' My darling Papa has rather taken fright at Mamma's letter. He 
fears that she is not well, that she has been hysterical at the thought 
of our danger, and seems anxious to go up to London himself, in 
order to assist her and see about her. Fanny and I expostulate. He 
is the best of husbands and fathers. I hope, however, that dearest 



38 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

Mamma is not unwell, and that the sea-air may do her good and 
strengthen her. Another objection to Dover is that the voyage is 
likely to be rougher to it than to Walmer. Walmer is not situated 
so near that terrible South Foreland. . . . This is Papa's opinion, but 
we cannot decide till we see Walmer.' 

Further particulars of the adventure alluded to are 
unfortunately not forthcoming. 



CHAPTER IV 

A FARCE OF GIRLISH DAYS 
THE PRETENDER ; 

A FARCE IN TWO ACTS ; by CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER. 

Characters : — 

Colonel Stumpley. 
Charles. 
Daresby. 

Corporal Catchup. 
Weasel — A Butler. 
O'Shannon— A Soldier. 
Mrs. Judith Rattleton. 
Miss Sophia Rattleton. 
Miss Barbara Rattleton. 
Miss Horatia Rattleton. 

Scene laid in Northtwiberland^ in and near the hoitse of Mrs. 
Judith. 

ACT I. 

SCENE I. 

the highroad before MRS. JUDITH'S HOUSE. 

Enter Charles. 

Charles. A cold, wet, and misty evening, and above all to one 

whose pockets are not lined ! My foolish fancy for the Stage has 

brought me to a declining stage, if not a stage of decline. Heigh 

ho ! how dark it is getting ! Just the sort of place to meet with a 

39 



40 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

ghost of Hamlet, not the sort of hamlet that I 'm looking after, for I 
have done with theatrical effects, — I wish that I had done with the 
effects of cold. How dark and gloomy that church steeple looks over 
the trees ! I 'm close to a chmxhyard, I suppose. And — ey ! ey ! 
what on earth are those white things upon the grass ? Clothes put out 
to dry ; what an ass I was not to see that before ! but fasting makes 
one nervous. There's a house. How cheerful the lights look in it ! 
I hear the sound of a piano going. There must be ladies there, and 
ladies are ever good and kind. What if I were to try my fortune at 
the door ? My poor namesake Prince Charlie must have put 
wanderers into fashion. Northumberland is near enough to Scotland 
to have imbibed a little of its spirit of romance. Poor Prince ! we are 
fellows in misfortune as we were partners in ambition. We both 
sought to play the King, I on the boards, he in Britain ; but his 
frea-king and my moc-king are both changed to aching on the moors, 
and a skul-king too, which makes us as thin as skeletons. I '11 try 
and muster up courage for a knock. \Knocks.'\ 

I should not look the worse for a new coat, I think. My knee- 
ribbons are bleached quite pale with the wind and the rain. Mais 
nHviporte ! the man, the man remains the same ! These locks have 
proved the keys to a Lady's heart e'er now ; and then wit and elo- 
quence ! When I was flogged at school for affirming that a furbelow 
must be an article, as I knew it to be an article of dress, my Master 
observed that all my brains lay at the root of my tongue ; and the 
best position for them too, say I ! Who would keep a prompter to 
bellow to one from the top of the Monument, and where 's the use of 
carrying one's brains so high, that one must send a carrier pigeon 
express for one's thoughts before one can express them at all ? Better 
have wit to cover ignorance, than silence to conceal sense. One 
can't squint into a man's head to see what it contains. Here comes 
a light to the door : now for the encounter. 

Weasel opens the door. 

Is Mrs. \coiighs'\ at home? Pray present my compliments to her, 
and say that a gentleman who has lost his way entreats the favour of 
shelter for a night under her hospitable roof. 

Weasel. Shall I take up your name. Sir 1 

Charles. No, Sir, you may take up my words. \^Exit Weasel.] 
Had the fellow been a Constable he might have taken me up also, 
for in this apparel I look more like a highwayman than a gentle- 
man in a highway. How very cold it is ! I wish that the triangular- 
nosed fellow would make haste ; and yet my heart misgives me. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 41 

I must 'screw my courage to the sticking point!' Impudence, 
impudence is my passport ! I hear him shuffling downstairs. Be 
hardy, bold, and resolute, my heart. 

Weasel opens the door. 

Weasel. Sir, my Mistress begs you to walk up. 
Charles. Go on, go on, I '11 follow thee ! \Exeunt^ 



SCENE II. 

the parlour of MRS. JUDITH'S HOUSE. 

Charles. Mrs. Judith. The Misses Sophia, Barbara, 
and H OR ATI A Rattleton. 

Charles. For all this unmerited kindness, most kind and fair 
ladies, a lonely wanderer can only return you thanks. 
\The young Ladies whisper together."] 

Sophia. Handsome, isn't he ? 

HORATIA. Such a flow of eloquence, such a command of lan- 
guage. 

Barbara. I wonder. Ratty, who he is. 

Mrs. Jud. Do you come from the North, Sir? 

Charles. I have spent the last few months there. Madam, though 
I was not born in Scotland. They were unfortunate months to me. 
I came to England on my Company's being broken up. 

Horatia. Your Company ! did you serve King George ? 

Charles. No, Miss, I tried to serve myself. 

Horatia. [Aside to Barbara.] Strange, is it not ? 

Sophia. Why was your company broken up ? 

Charles. Because we were not able to raise a Sovereign amongst 
us. We were sadly cut up. 

Horatia. [Eagerly.] By the Dragoons? 

Charles. [Laughing?^ Do not inquire too closely, fair Lady. 

Mrs. Jud. May I ask your name. Sir? 

Charles. Charles Stu — [Aside.] Ass that I am ! 

Mrs. Jud. I beg your pardon. Sir, I did not hear you. 

Charles. [Aside.] The first word that comes ! [A/otid.] Dapple, 
Madam, Dapple. [Aside.] I might have hit on a more romantic name, 
but my brain seems in a whirl. 

Horatia. It is a very curious study to trace the derivations . . . 

Mrs. Jud. Any way related to the Dapples of . . . 



42 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Sophia. Down, Adonis, down ! your dirty little paws . . . 

HORATIA. One would suppose them sometimes prophetical of 
future events. Who can deny that Hanover . . . 

Barbara, Our family name of . . . 

HoRATiA. \Raising her voice.'] Who can deny that Hanover has a 
great resemblance to Hand-over, or that Cumberland is as just a 
denomination for the bloody Duke as if . . . 

Sophia. Pretty little pet he is, is he not ? 

Barbara. Our family name of Rattleton is said to be derived 
from a famous Ancestor of ours, a chief of the ancient Britons . . . 

Mrs. Jud. My Cousin by the Mother's side . . . 

Barbara. Whose head being cleft from his shoulders as he was 
driving his chariot into the thickest of . . . 

Mrs. Jud. The family of the Goslings . . . 

HORATIA. Also passionately fond of Heraldry . . . 

Barbara. His spirit seemed unconquered even by the blow which 
decapitated him, and he drove on . . . 

Horatia. a Lion rampant over 6 grasshoppers . . . 

Barbara. Whence our name of Rattle-ton or Rattle-on is said to 
be derived. 

Charles. [Aside.'] This is beyond endurance. They stun me. 
What a nest of parrots I am in ! I cannot get in a word. 

Horatia. Thus, Sir, your name of . . . I beg your pardon. Sir, it 
has slipped my memory. 

Charles. [Aside.'] Hang me, if it has not fairly bolted from mine ! 

Mrs. Jud. Mr. Charles Dapple. 

Charles. [Aside.] I'll change the conversation. [To Horaiia.] 
You seem much devoted. Miss, to scientific pursuits. 

Horatia. O, they are my delight, my recreation ! Ornithology, 
Mythology, Geology, Conchology, fascinate me. I was first given my 
taste for the higher branches of these intellectual sciences by . . . 

Sophia. Mr. Dapple, have you remarked my pretty little . . . 

Horatia. My Uncle in the Scilly Isles, whose mind . . . 

Sophia. Have you remarked . . . 

Horatia. A profound genius . . . 

Sophia. My little poodle, Adonis ? 

Horatia. By-the-by, Mr. Dapple, may I ask your opinion on a 
much disputed point, where I venture to differ even from my Uncle 1 
What do you think of the Aerolites ? 

Charles. [Ttcniing to Sophia?^ A sweet little dog, indeed : what 
fine eyes ! 

Horatia. Do you think them . . 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 43 

Charles. The little pink ribbon round its neck is so becoming. 

HORATIA. {^Raising her voice.'] Mr. Dapple, Mr. Dapple, do you 
think the Aerolites . . . 

Charles. [^Aside.] Help me, my mother-wits ! , 

HORATIA. Do you agree in the generally received opinion . . . 

Charles. [Aside.'] Some political party perhaps ! 

HORATIA. Or do you think them . , . 

Charles. Why, ma'am, I think — I — I am decidedly of opinion — 
that— that— the . . . 

HORATIA. The Aerolites . . . 

Charles. Are nothing more or less than Jacobites. 

All the Ladies. Jacobites ! 

HORATIA. Why, Sir, I always thought them a sort of stone . . . 

Charles. Stone-fruit, true, true ; I spoke without thinking. Stone- 
fruit, a species of — of — apricots. 

Barbara. Hark, there is a knock at the door. Peep through 
the shutters. Ratty, and see who it is. 

Charles. [Aside.] A little diversion for me. I am growing so 
hot. Silence to cover sense would in this case . . . 

Horatia. 'Tis old Colonel Stumply. 

Charles. [Starting up.] Colonel Stumply ! I 'm dished. 

The Ladies. Why — what — who 

Charles. Perhaps you will permit me, ladies, to retire. I feel 
indisposed — faint ! [Exit.] 

Mrs. Jud. I must go and welcome my old friend. [Exit.] 

Horatia. Bab ! 

Barbara. Ratty ! 

Horatia. What a flash of electricity has burst on my intellect I 

Sophia. His noble air ; his wan features . . . 

Horatia. A fugitive . . . 

Sophia. A wanderer . . . 

Horatia. His sudden alarm . . . 

Sophia. [Rushing into her arms.] O Ratty, Ratty, what a day ! 
what an honour ! what a surprise ! 

Barbara. How now, what's the matter? 

Horatia. Brain of adamant ! could not instinct direct you to 
the feet of your adored Prince ? 

Barbara. The Prince ! Is it possible? 

Sophia. Charlie ! Charlie ! O ! what a moment ! 

Horatia. Did you not hear him describe the ruin of his army . . . 

Sophia. Did you not hear 'Charles Stew — ' upon his noble 
tongue . . . 



44 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

HORATIA. How he started when he recollected himself . . . 

Sophia. And O, how exquisitely pathetic, how touchingly appro- 
priate, the name he gave instead ! Dapple ; to signify how his 
fortunes are chequered — Dapple . . 

Barbara. How the Jacobites were running in his head when he 
even . . . 

Sophia. Little reason had he to fear us. If Daresby had been 
here . . . 

Barbara. And this vile Colonel : no wonder he started off! 

Sophia. What shall we do to get rid of him ? 

Horatia. All that woman ever attempted I am ready to perform. 

Sophia. I would die for him. 

Barbara. And I too. 

Sophia. The handsome, brave, dear, darling young Prince ! And 
to think that Daresby 's a Whig ! 

Enter Mrs. Judith a7id Col. Stumply. 

Col. Good evening, young Ladies, good evening. I have just 
returned from the North, where we are everywhere triumphant, 
and our laurels should ensure us a welcome from beauty. ' None 
but the brave, none but the brave deserve the fair,' you know. Hey, 
Miss Sophy? 

Sophia. [AszWe.] Monster ! 

Horatia. [Aside.] Traitor ! 

Barbara. [Aside.] Butcher ! 

Col. What, all silent and aghast ? I shall begin to fear myself 
unwelcome. Hey, Mrs. Judith? But my Regiment is quartered for 
the night in the village, and I was sure that I might throw myself 
on the hospitality of an old friend. 

Mrs. Jud. We are delighted to see you. 

Col. Is your little room unoccupied to-night? 

Mrs. Jud. To tell the truth there is a young . . . 

Horatia. [Aside.] I could beat her ! [Aloud. ] It is quite unoccu- 
pied, Sir, except — except in this cold weather we keep the pigs there. 

Col. The pigs ! 

Mrs. Jud. Why, Ratty . . . 

Horatia. Oh, it is not tit to receive you. Sir. The chimney 
tumbled in during the last gale . . . 

Mrs. Jud. Why, Ratty . . . 

Horatia. And every pane of glass is broken. 

Sophia. [Aside to Barbara.] O Bab, such lying can never thrive. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 45 

Mrs. Jud. What strange non . , . 

HORATIA. [Asz'de.] How on earth can I stop her tongue? 
[Alot^d.] Aunt, Aunt, is there any supper prepared for the Colonel? 

Col. Anything ; anything ; the cold ride has sharpened my 
appetite ; but a good blaze like this cheers the heart, and gives me 
courage to face even the pigs. Miss Ratty ! 

Mrs. Jud. The pigs ! why . . . 

HORATIA. Would you like to see that everything is comfortable 
yourself, Aunt ? [As/de.] I am in a fever ! 

Col. Turn out the pigs, hey, Mrs. Judith ? 

Mrs. Jud. If I ever . . . 

HORATIA. Go, dear Aunt, precious Aunt, do go. 

Sophia. A nice little dish of your own making would be so 
acceptable. 

Barbara. We '11 take care of the Colonel. 

Mrs. Jud. I cannot com — pre — hend — I [T/ie girls half lead, 

half picsh her oiit?[ 

Col. You will excuse me, young ladies ; I always make a point of 
looking after my horse myself. [ExlL] 

Horatia. {Sinking on a chair.'] I am exhausted. Stupid sticks, 
why did you not assist me ? 

SOPHLA.. I tried, but . . . 

Barbara. What shall we do now ? 

S0PHL\. My heart beats so, I shall expire. 

Barbara. The Colonel will stay in spite of the pigs. 

Sophia. Where can we hide the Prince ? 

Horatia. {Starling up?[ A thought has struck me. 

Sophia. What, what ? 

Horatia. You shall hear — it has been done before. You will aid 
me in the execution of it. 

Sophia. {Throwing herself into her arms.] O my Ratty ! 

Horatia. We will save him. 

Barbara. We will, we will ! 

Horatia. Or perish with him. * 

Sophia. We will. 

Horatia. Come, come, no time is to be lost ; let us fly to his 
succour. 

' Come weal, come woe. 
We '11 gather and go, 
And live or die wi' Charlie ! ' 



46 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

SCENE III. 

A CHURCHYARD EY MOONLIGHT. 

Enter Charles, Sophl\, Barbara, a7id Horatl\. 

Charles. Where on earth are you taking me ? 

S0PHL\. To safety, to safety. 

Barbara. We know all. 

Charles. You know all ? 

HORATIA. Your name, your situation . . . 

Charles. Then you must know that the coming of the Colonel is 
hangably inconvenient to me. 

Sophla.. We tremble at your danger. 

HORATIA. We will defend you with our lives. 

Charles. Excessively kind, but it is not quite come to that yet. 
A kick or a caning . . . 

Sophia. You make us shudder. 

Charles. But I do not like promenading at this hour in winter ! 
Is it a country fashion? I am very cold, and tired, and sleepy, and 
I would rather retire to rest. 

HORATIA. Here then we have arrived at the spot. Descend, and 
you will find a bed prepared for you. 

Charles. Descend ! why, hang me if it isn't a vault ! 

Sophia. If it would please you to descend . . . 

Charles. Please me, you barbarous witches ! would it please 
any one to be buried alive ? What on earth do you mean ? 

Barbara. The only way to preserve your rights . . . 

Charles. Rites, do you call these rites .'' They are very inhuman 
rites. Anything but the rites of hospitality. To offer a stranger 
the shelter of your roof, and then make his bed in a vault ! This is 
your spare-room, is it ? If I had guessed what you meant to do with 
your guest, I would not have troubled you with my company. 

HORATIA. O, for your Country's sake . . . 

Charles. My Country's sake ! what good can it do my Country ? 
I know your motives, you scientific ]\Ionster ! you want to make a 
petrifaction of me. 

HoRATiA. Is it possible that a treatment so . . . 

Charles. A treat meant is it ? If you mean it for a treat, I assure 
you that I do not consider it as one. You may go in yourself and 
enjoy it. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 47 

Barbara. So short a space . . . 

Charles. A very short space I can see, and a very narrow space 
too. I '11 be hanged if I get into it ! 

HORATIA. Who could have expected opposition from such a 
quarter ? 

Sophia. Can the Hero shrink from so small a trial of his con- 
stancy ? Oh, descend, descend, and we will admire . . . 

Charles. Add mire, you cruel wretches ! is there not enough at 
the bottom already ? 

Horatia. We would preserve you. 

Charles. Didn't I say so 1 Some inhuman experiment ! But 
I '11 not be preserved to please you, not I. 

Sophl\. {Throwing herself at Jiis feet P\ O noblest of men ! doubt 
not our fidelity ! yield to our agonized entreaties ! 

\The others kneel ?\^ 

Charles. Yield, indeed ! I beg you will rise, fair Ladies. I know 
not if you are jesting ; 'tis but a cold jest to me. As for entering 
that vault, you may kill me before you bury me, for while I 'm alive 
I '11 not go. Ladies ; I say I will not go, 

HORATL\. Then we must leave him to his fate. 

Charles. Leave me, leave me, all alone in a churchyard. 
Ladies, ladies, for pity's sake . . . 

Horatia. I am beside myself. 

Charles. Remain then beside me. Or rather, why cannot we 
return to the house ? I am half frozen with cold and . . . and excite- 
ment ! 

Barbara. You forget the Colonel. 

Charles. The Colonel. O, is that all? Can't you hide me in 
some quiet corner ? 

Horatia. I have it ! the storeroom. 

Barbara. But if a search should be made ? 

Charles. Search ! who '11 search ? The storeroom is the very 
place. Come, come, the air is piercing ; come. 

Barbara. This way ; by the kitchen door. 

Charles. Once more into the house, dear friends, once more. 

\Exit?\^ 

Horatia. Is this the Prince.^ the Hero? 

Sophia. O Ratty ! our duty remains the same ! [Exetmt.] 



48 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

ACT II. 

SCENE I. 

the parlour. 

Colonel Stumply. Weasel. 

Col. Good-morrow, Weasel. An old campaigner, youj see, learns 
to be an early riser. 

Weasel. I wish your honour a good morning. I hope you found 
your room comfortable. 

Col. Most comfortable. No traces of the pigs, ha, ha ! none the 
worse for the chimney-top ; ha, ha, ha ! That Comet has a tail, I 
guess. Well, Weasel, how has all gone on these two years, since I 
last found myself at Rattleton Hermitage } Hey? 

Weasel. Much the same as usual, your honour. Our only varieties 
are Dr. Daresby and the rheumatics ; till last night when . . . 

Col. The girls — the young Ladies seem much grown, much 
improved. 

Weasel. O, for the matter of that, yes, though Miss Ratty's 
sadly taken up with the books, d 'ye see. She 's poring all day long 
over a lot of different sorts of learnings ; I don't remember their 
names, but they all ends in oddity. Then she's an out and out 
Jacobite, and thumps the piano when she sings ' Charlie is my 
darhng,' as though she took it for a Whig. Indeed, your honour, 
last night . . . 

Col. And Miss Barbara? 

Weasel. She's quiet like. Sir. She 's never off her chair stitch- 
ing away. They says, your honour, that she makes holes on purpose 
to sew them up again, d 'ye see ? 

Col. Sophy — Miss Rattleton is a charming girl. 

Weasel. Ah, so thinks some one else. Did your honour ever see 
young Dr. Daresby ? 

Col, No, what of him ? 

Weasel. O, nothing, Sir. But they walks alone together, and 
sings duets together, and he gave her the little poodle, and they says, 
your honour, d 'ye see . . . 

Col. Yes, yes, I understand. 

Weasel. She always feeds that fat little dog herself, your honour. 
She gives it slices of bread and strawberry jam. But she 's a good 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 49 

young Lady, Sir. Often I sees her going to the cottages with her 
Httle pink bag filled with the good things which Mrs. Judith makes. 
(I knows that from Mrs. Marjory who has to wash out the grease- 
spots every day for Miss Sophy.) And there she goes mincing along 
with her long veil hanging behind, and her little poodle running on 
before her. But may I make bold to ask how Master Stumply is .? 
He was a very little boy when . . . 

Col. Not a word of him, Weasel, not a word of him ! He's a 
wayward . . . don't speak of him ! folly and indiscretion have been 
his bane. 

Weasel. [Shaking his hcad.l There's some others I know seem 
running the same road. 

Col. How? Who? 

Weasel. O, it is not for me to say, your honour. 

Col. Speak ; explain yourself. 

Weasel. I dare say 'twas all a frolic, your honour, but there were 
odd doings here yesterday^ 

Col. Tell me, tell me. 

Weasel. {Mysteriously.'] Perhaps as an old friend of the Family 
your honour ought to know all, and such a rum affair . . . 

Col. Go on, go on. 

Weasel. Well then, your honour, yesterday was a cold evening, d'ye 
see, and as I was stirring the kitchen fire there comes a knock, and I 
goes to the door, your honour. 

Col. Well. 

Weasel. There stands a tall, genteel-like lad with a ragged coat. 
And he would give me no name, but he said he was a Wanderer, and 
asked for a night's lodging. So Mrs. Judith, who never can refuse 
any one, ordered the spare bed to be got ready for him. 

Col. So I turned him out, hey, Weasel ? There 's the secret of the 
pigs ; but why this mystery? 

Weasel. Mystery, Sir, ay, that 's the word ; but if your honour was 
to hear what followed ! 

Col. What ? where did they put him ? 

Weasel. {Lowering his voice.] When it was night, your honour, 
what sees I through the chink of the kitchen door in the passage but 
the three young Ladies lugging along a great bundle, and stopping 
and panting and puffing? So says I, I'll see to the bottom of this, 
so I pops out suddenly and says, ' Can I help you, Misses ?' quite civil 
like. But O Sir, how Miss Sophy trembled and turned as white as 
a lily, and Miss Ratty stamped and sent me to the village — at that 

D 



so THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

hour, your honour, company in the house — the ground covered with 
frost — I subject to the rheumatics — and what for, d'ye think ? to get 
her twopenceworth of shoe-ribbon, your honour ; and when I brought 
it, would you beHeve it ? — she roared out that it was too narrow and 
sent me back again. 

Col. Most strange ! most unaccountable ! Have you any guess 
what was in the bundle ? 

Weasel. I winked at it, your honour. There was a mattress and 
blankets, I 'm sure. 

Col. For the Stranger, I suppose. But this mystery ! I cannot 
understand it. Where could they be going ? 

Weasel. To the churchyard, I thinks. 

Col. The churchyard ! 

Weasel. Why, your honour, they certainly did not go into the 
kitchen, and the back-door leads straight across the yard to the 
Church, and the vault would be no bad hiding-place, your honour. 
Miss Ratty has hid there herself, I knows, when the dentist was here. 

Col. Have you no other clue ? What an extraordinary affair ! 

Weasel. Why, Sir — your honour, last night Mrs. Marjory over- 
heard Miss Ratty whispering Miss Sophy, and she said. Sir . . . 

Col. What 1 speak out ! 

Weasel. 'As long as the Colonel remains here the Prince must 
keep concealed.' 

Col. {Springing tip.'] The Prince ! ha, ha ! I smell a rat ! the 
Pretender ! the Pretender ! if there was ever such luck, such fortune ! 
Hang me if I could not — but there's not an instant to be lost. Fly, 
Weasel, to the village. Bid Corporal Catchup and a dozen stout 
fellows be with me directly. Fly, I say, and if it be all as I hope, I '11 
cram you with gold till you choke. Begone ! Fly ! {Exit Weasel.] 
Thirty thousand pounds and a baronetship ! Sir Stephen Stumply ! 
Ah, if that wayward boy — the Pretender ! the Pretender ! he 's in 
a net, in a net, and I '11 be hanged if I let him out of it. {Exit.l 

SCENE II. 

the drawing-room. 

Enter H OR ATI A. 

HORATIA. What a sleepless night I have passed, what anxiety, 

what excitement ! and yet how unlike is he to what I had imagined ! 

so timid, so petulant ! and that perpetual punning ! It matters not, 

however, — his title to our services remains the same ! A strange mis- 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 51 

giving is on my soul ; is it the shadow of approaching danger, or 
only the fear of it ? The Colonel gave me a strange meaning look as 
he passed me this morning, and said, ' You are early up, Miss Ratty ; 
I fear that your rest was broken last night.' Can he suspect any- 
thing? That sneaking wretch. Weasel ! Hark, I hear the Colonel's 
step and a strange voice. I '11 conceal myself behind this screen. 
Perhaps . . . 

Enter Colonel Stumply and Corporal Catchup. 

Col. Plant two stout fellows at the front door, and half a dozen in 
the garden. Place them so that there shall be no possibility of escape 
either from the house or the churchyard adjoining. 

Cor. I will, Sir. 

HORATIA. [Aside.] Horror and despair ! 

Col. Yourself and four of your best men go and search the open 
vault at the right-hand corner of the churchyard, and on your lives 
let not your prisoner escape. Go, plant your Sentinels, and then to 
your business. [Exit CORPORAL CATCHUP.] I will go and super- 
intend myself. [Exit.] 

HORATIA. Day of horror and misery ! All is lost. All is dis- 
covered. If I but knew of one who could divert the attention of 
these wretches till the Prince escaped ! If I . . . 

E7tter Daresby. 
Daresby ! He's a Whig ! but I '11 make him my tool. 

Daresby. Good morning, I came thus early . . . 

HORATIA. [Speaking very fast.] You are so welcome — you came 
just a moment . . . 

Daresby. My Sophy ! nothing is the matter with her? 

HORATIA. O no. It's a poor soldier — got the cholera — lying in 
the vault . . . 

Daresby. In a vault ! 

HORATIA. Run, run, dearest Daresby, or you will be too late. 

Daresby. What do you mean ? Explain yourself. 

HORATIA. The cholera, I say — in the vault — O ! you put me in a 
fever. For my sake, for Sophy's — O run, fly ! 

Daresby. Whatever can you . . . 

HORATIA. Go, or I shall run wild ! You know the way, go ! 

Daresby. If I can be of any use to the poor sufferer. [Exit.] 

HORATIA. O, what a relief! he's gone ! I should never survive 
another day of such excitement. If they once suppose that their 
object is gained and the Prince caught, the sentinels will be removed 



52 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

from the garden, and he can escape through the window. If the 
deception can be carried on for one half-hour he may be saved. I 
must go and put my sisters on their guard, and prepare the Prince for 
flight. If Aunt Judith or Weasel see and recognise Daresby all is 
lost. I wish I could lock them both up. What a labyrinth I am 
in ! The greatest comfort is that the Colonel is a blockhead, and 
would not know a prince from a pancake ! [Eiz'I] 

SCENE III. 

THE STORE-ROOM. 

Charles. Something better than a vault this, methinks. I could 
not have found a hiding-place more to my mind. Excellent cherry- 
brandy she makes, this Mrs. Judith. I have entered half a dozen 
professions since I entered this room ; it will be hard if I do not make 
my fortune out of one of them. I am an Historian, for I have been 
discussing old dates ; a Merchant, for I add plum to plum ; a Lawyer, 
for I have opened many a case ; a Lord Mayor, for the mace is before 
me ; and a Navigator, for I am led to seize and gulf I What if I were 
to stay here altogether, or set up a new company with my fair 
hostesses ? Miss Ratty is cut out for a tragedy Queen. Such pas- 
sion ! such emphasis ! \^Mtmickmg.'\ ' That my keen knife see not 
the wound it makes' — but the puzzle is that they are all ladies ; not 
one to take a gentleman's part. It is a shame in me to say so, for 
I am sure that they have taken mine. My only hope would be in 
Weasel. That fellow has such a desperate squint, that I am sure 
he would make a capital Lear ! 

Enter Horatia. 

HORATIA. Fly ! fly ! while yet there is a moment's respite. 

Charles. Fly ! and wherefore ? 

Horatia. Rouse all the ancient courage of your race . . . 

Charles. There can be no courage in a race, for a race is running 
away. 

Horatlv. Let the spirit of your Ancestors glow in your bosom, 
for the hour of danger is come. 

Charles. ' I dare do all that may become a man ' . . . 

Horatla.. Does this trifling become a man and a hero ? 

Charles. I know of but one thing, fair Ratty, that can become a 
man and a hero. 

Horatia. What is that 1 

Charles. A boy, to be sure ! 

Horatia. Enough, enough of this perpetual play of words. We 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 53 

must think, we must act. Another is now taking your place at the 
vault . . . 

Charles. My place ! how excessively obliging ! 

HORATIA. Every moment is invaluable. Put on this dress of my 
Aunt's which I have brought for you, and fly, fly, while the deception 
lasts ! 

Charles. The brandy must have got into my head. 

HORATIA. Put it on, I entreat you, if not for your own or your 
Country's sake, yet for your noble Father's. 

Charles. My Father's ! Either you or I . . . Why, what 's the 
matter with him ? Is he in the farce too .-^ 

Horatia, [Aside.] He is the worse for liquor ! O horrible ! and 
at such a moment ! [Aloi^d.] The soldiers are here — sent to seize 
you — to drag you to a dungeon, perhaps an ignominious death. 

Charles. [Alarmed.] And why? what have I done? 

Horatia. I heard the orders given. One hour's delay will lead 
you to the scaffold. 

Charles. The scaffold ! 

H0RATL\. The block. 

Charles. The block ! why, what is my crime ? Why does not my 
Father come to my assistance ? 

Horatia. Your Father cannot — he is exiled from his native land. 
Were he to appear, he must perish too. 

Charles. Have you hid him ? have you hid him ? 

Horatia. [Aside.] Horridly drunk 1 [Aloud.] Put on this dress 
and fly. It is your only chance of life. 

Charles. You have put me into a shiver. I cannot half believe, 
nor a quarter comprehend you. 

Horatia. Believe then these tears, this agony of apprehension in 
which you see me. This moment the soldiers may be mounting 
the staircase — cutting off all hope . . . 

Charles. Give me the slip then, and I will give them the slip ! 
quick, quick, and the cloak and hood. 

Horatia. Here, here ! O despatch ! while you remain here I 
tread on hot iron. 

Charles. I am to personate your Aunt. 

Horatia. Yes, yes, any one, but make haste. 

Charles. So, I 'm equipped. Farewell, Lady ! 

Horatia. Pull the hood over your face. O farewell I [Exit 
Charles.] 

Horatia. One hour more of excitement, and then . . . [Exit.] 



54 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

SCENE IV. 

THE CHURCHYARD. 

Enter CORPORAL Catchup and Soldiers. 

Corp. Silence ! Silence ! halt ! advance bending down and with 
your bayonets presented. Comrades, this is a glorious day, and 
if we catch the Pretender we shall have little cause to grieve 
that we arrived a day too late for the Battle of Culloden. What 
were the deeds of the Duke of Cumberland to ours ? He but 
wounded the fox, we catch him by the nose. We shall be made 
Aldermen, every man of us. Take ground behind those bushes ; 
keep silence. I hear a voice in the vault. On your lives be silent 
— be steady ! 

Daresby. \In the vault.^ I can find no one, yet here is a bed 
prepared. What a strange place to make an hospital of ! {^Emerg- 
ing front the vault ^ Perhaps the poor fellow has got frightened and 
delirious . . . 

Corp. Stand ! 

Daresby. Ah, here is my Patient. So you have got the 
cholera, my Friend I 

Corp. No, unless that 's one of your titles. Surrender or die ! 

Daresby. He must be in a high fever ! Be calm, my good man, I 
will render you all the assistance in my power. 

Corp. You will, will you } 

Daresby. Come with me to the house, come. This is no place 
for a person in your state. 

Corp. Well, if this arn't droll I he 's trying to humbug me. 

Daresby. You may catch your death of cold. 

Corp. I '11 catch nothing but you. Come along, Sir, offer no 
resistance, for it's of no use. I 'm sorry for you, but I 've a duty to 
perform, and a reward to get. 

Daresby. What do you mean, fellow ? Standoff! 

Corp. Ho ! guards there ! [Daresby is surrounded.] 

Daresby. This is some error. By whose warrant do you dare to 
apprehend one of his Majesty's subjects ? 

Corp. No use in all that deception, Sir : all 's discovered now. 

Daresby. What 's discovered, fellow, what deception ? Who dares 
use such terms to me ! You shall answer for your conduct. Sir ; this 
shall not be passed over, I '11 warrant you. 

Corp. I hope not, Sir. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 55 

Daresby. This is not to be endured. By whose orders do you 
presume to place me under arrest ? 

Corp. We are under the orders of Colonel Stumply. 

Daresby. I must see the Colonel instantly. He shall give me 
an explanation of this extraordinary affair. Take me to him 
directly. 

Corp. All in good time, Sir. Stickum, have you handcuffs with you ? 

Daresby. Handcuffs, villain ! 

Stickum. No. 

Corp. Keep your hand on his collar, then. Soldiers, present 
bayonets. Let him attempt to escape, and he dies. 

Daresby. With what effrontery . . . 

Corp. Move on, Sir, if you please. \To the Soldiers.'] Keep 
your eye on him. If he but raise his hand or turn his head — fire ! 

\Exetmt.'\ 

SCENE V. 

the garden gate. 

O'Shannon 

O'Shan. a could, misty, morning, and I am left here to keep watch 
without a drop of the cratur to cheer my heart or keep my spirits 
from sinking. There 's all the rest of them gone to catch the Pre- 
tender and get the prize-money, and it 's nothing that I 'm likely to 
catch here but a cold. I wish that I had never left the tallow 
business, that I do, for all this murthering work. It was a lucky 
chance that we were a day too late for the fair at Culloden ; it 's no 
fancy I have for the Highlanders' dirks. Awful slashing work they 
made, 'tis said. Well-a-day ! I must shoulder my gun ; if the 
Corporal found me standing at ease, he would order me a round 
dozen : there 's no fear of it 's going off for its own accord, the cratur, 
for I forgot to load it this morning. 

Enter Charles in disgidse. 

Charles. [Aside.] And there is a Sentry ! Horatia was right ! 
But what they should want to arrest either me or my Father for is 
more than I can comprehend ! This is really nervous work. I fear 
that I shall find it as difficult to pass this fellow as I found it at 
school to parse a sentence from my grammar-book. Notwithstand- 
ing the dress with which Ratty provided me, I shall need all the 



56 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

address of which I am master to get through this scrape should he 
address me. I must put on an air of confidence. Perhaps he may 
let me pass without question. 

O'Shan. a black morning, Ma'am. 

Charles. {Attempting to slip past?[ Did you ever see mourning 
any other colour ? 

O'Shan, Can't pass here, Ma'am. 

Charles. No ! and why ? 

O'Shan. 'Cause I am posted here to keep a good watch. 

Charles. \Attcvipting to pass agaiii?[ Easier to keep a good 
watch than to get one ! 

O'Shan. I have orders to let no one pass. 

Charles. O but, my good fellow, I have very important business. 
You must let me go. 

O'Shan. Keep back. Ma'am. Now I thinks on 't, your hood looks 
rather suspicious. 

Charles. {Retreating a step.] Does it ? A sort of robbin' hood, 
I suppose. [Aside.] I wish the fellow were at Jericho. 

O'Shan. And that dress was never made for you ? Let me see a 
little closer. {Adva7ici7ig.'\ 

Charles. {Retreating. Aside.] Shall I run for my life ? 

O'Shan. Stop, stop, my good Lady I Methinks your dress is 
uncommon short, too, it hardly reaches to the clocks of your stock- 
ings. 

Charles. Mind your watch, and leave my clocks alone. {Aside.] 

dear ! O dear ! If I were but once fairly off! {Attempts to 
rim.] 

O'Shan. Stop, or I '11 shoot ye ! I '11 send a bullet through your 
head if ye stir an inch farther. 

Charles. {Aside.] I 'm done for ! 

O'Shan. {Aside.] I '11 make sure. {Suddenly darts towards 
Charles and pulls back his hood.] Hillo ! hillo I I 've caught him ! 

1 've caught him, 'tis the man himself. 

Charles. {Aside.] One struggle for life. {Aloud.] Beware, fellow, 
I have arms. {Aside.] None but what nature gave me. 

O'Shan. {Retreating a step. Aside.] Murther ! and the gun is 
not loaded ! 

Charles. {Aside.] I 've staggered him 1 {Aloud.] Lay but a 
finger on me and I '11 lay you with the dust. 

O'Shan. Keep off, or I '11 shoot ye. 

Charles. {Retreating.] A fig for your gun ! 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 57 

O'Shan. \Aside. Retreating?^ I wish some one would come. 
I 've heard he 's a raal hero. I '11 call for help. Holloa ! there. 

Charles. Hold your peace, or I '11 cut you piece-meal. 

O'Shan. I '11 blow your brains out, I will ! [Aside.] He can't guess 
that it 's not loaded. 

Charles. [Aside.] If he should fire ! 

O'Shan. [Aside.] If he should fight ! My poor Mother ; och, if 
she could see me now, 'twould pit her into high-strikes. Is no one 
coming to help me ? 

Charles. [Aside.] If I could but touch his kinder feelings ! I 
have been accustomed to steal hearts, but I fear that I should find 
his steeled already. I must make one more effort to steal past him. 
But the sight of his matchlock makes my blood run cold. 

O'Shan. Och ! he's coming nearer. O for pity's sake . . . 

Charles. If mercy ever touched your bosom . . . 

Enter CORPORAL Catchup. 

O'Shan. Catch him ! catch him ! 'tis he, the Pretender ! catch 
him, Corporal ! collar him ! never fear ! 

Corp. Who ? the old woman ? 

O'Shan. Catch him, I say, and never be frightened for him, man. 
I found him out. 

Charles. So— all is lost. 

Corp. A man in disguise ! it must be he. Bind him, O'Shannon. 
This is a prize indeed. 

O'Shan. Ah, poor gintleman, your troubles will soon be pit an 
end to. Ah ! ye may well sigh, for no man laughs on his way to the 
gallows. 

Charles. The gallows ! is it possible that so inhuman a murder 
can be contemplated ? 

O'Shan. O ye may be satisfied of it ! There's only one thing 
that 's doubtful, I 'm thinking. 

Charles. What 's that ? 

O'Shan. Whether they'll stick your head on the Lord Mayors 
mace before or after they 've hung you ! 

Charles. O horrible, horrible, most horrible ! It cannot, O it 
cannot be I What a dreadful, what a fearful fate ! O that the first 
step I took from my Father's home had been into a horse-pond ! that 
I had died e'er I left it ! 

O'Shan. Ay, there's the pity ! Had ye stayed peaceably at home, 
this would never have happened to ye. 



58 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Charles. The gallows ! can it be ? 

O'Shan. Ah, how all the Ladies will pity ye ! such a likely lad, 
and so young, and . . . 

Charles. Silence ! you distract me. 

O'Shan. Poor gintleman ! when it comes to the pinch, when the 
rope . . . 

Corp. No more, O'Shannon ! You have secured his arms. Bring 
him speedily along with you. No delay ! 

Charles. My limbs can scarcely support me ! O day of agony, 
of misery, and despair ! \Exeimt?[ 

SCENE VI. 

THE parlour. 

Colonel Stumply. 

Col. \Rubbing his /ia?ids.] Caught ! caught ! This is indeed a 
good day's work. 

Enter Sophl\, Barbara, and Horatia. 

Col. Ah ! ha ! my pretty Jacobites, this comes of your plotting. 
The Pretender is in safe hands now. Who would have thought you 
up to such a conspiracy ? 

H0RATL\. Alas, our unhappy Prince ! 

Sophia. {Aside to Horatia.] Poor Daresby ! It makes my heart 
faint to think of him. I cannot stay to look on. 

Horatia. You must stay to keep him silent. 'Tis but for an hour. 
I am ashamed of you. Remember that you have a part to perform. 

Sophy. I cannot say what is not true. 

Horatia. Say nothing, then. 

Efiter Daresby guarded. 

Daresby. \To the Col.] Sir, I demand an explanation of this 
most extraordinary and unjustifiable treatment. Sir, I am a gentle- 
man and . . . [Horatia makes earnest signs to him to be silent^ 

Col. You shall be treated. Sir, with all the respect due to your 
station, consistent with your safe custody. 

Daresby. Of what am I charged.'* Who is my accuser? what 
wretch dares ? [Horatio repeats the signs?^ What is the meaning of 
all this nonsense t Do you wish to make a fool of me ? I '11 not 
endure this . . . 

Col. Be calm. Sir, and submit to destiny. 

Daresby. I '11 not submit to such treatment. My name is . . . 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 59 

[H OR ATI A in a?t agony throws herself at his feet^ exclainiing\ O 
noble man ! for the sake of all you love . . . 

Daresby. Horatia, I am in a dream. Sophy, of you I ask, I 
entreat, an explanation. Why am I thus confined ? Why do you 
stand calmly looking on my disgrace ? 

Sophy. Calmly I O Da . . . [Aside.] I cannot restrain my tears. 

Daresby. Are you too my enemy? 

Sophy. Your enemy I O ! 

Daresby. [To the Colonel.] Are my political opinions suspected ? 
Am I supposed to be a Ja . . . 

Horatia. You are known — you are known — to be — to be — 
to be . . . [Enter Weasel.] 

Horatia. [Springing to Sophia's side?[ O Sophy, for pity's 
sake take that creature off, or . . . 

Sophy. Weasel, Weasel ! [Aside.] What can I say ? 

Weasel. What ! Dr. Da . . . 

Sophia. Weasel, Weasel, will you go directly to the garden and 
fetch . . . 

Weasel. What, Miss ? 

Sophia. Fetch, fetch — some spinach. 

Weasel. Spinach don't grow in November, Miss, as Dr. . . . 

Horatia. Go to the village directly for . . . 

Weasel. Can't go to the village no more. Miss, till 1 've laid the 
cloth for breakfast. The Doc . . . 

Horatia. We must have wine. Go to the cellar. 

Weasel. Haven't got the keys, Miss. If I might make bold to ask 
why . . . 

Horatia. Begone this instant ... we shall want poultry. Wring 
every chicken's neck in the yard, or I '11 wring yours as sure as I stand 
here ! [Exit Weasel.] 

Col. What an extraordinary temper ! 

Daresby. Sophy, Sophy, if you are still the ingenuous being I ever 
believed you to be, tell me in what farce I am thus forced to act a 
part against my will. Tell me the secret of the conspiracy which 
seems formed against me. Are you an accessory ? 

Col. Why, the Ladies have been turning every stone in your 
defence I They never let out the secret ! As far as they were 
concerned you might have remained in your vault until you were old 
enough to stay there altogether ! 

Daresby. Ever>' sentence that I hear bewilders me yet more. 
Ratty Rattleton, Ratty Rattleton, you are at the bottom of the plot. 



6o THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Enter Mrs. Judith. 

HORATIA. [Aside.] Aunt Judy ! this is distraction ! 

Mrs. Jud. Young Daresby, my . . . 

HORATIA. Aunt, Aunt . . . 

Mrs. Jud. What's the matter? 

HoRATiA. The . . . [as/de] at last I seem come to my wits end ! 
[A/oud] The . . . 

Daresby. Mrs. Judith Rattleton, you are my friend, you will bear 
witness . . . 

HoRATiA. The most important . . . 

Sophia. O dear Aunt . . . 

Barbara. If you would only hold your tongue ! 

Mrs. Jud. What a racket ! what . . . why . . . 

Daresby. Mrs. Judith, I am here charged with ... 

Mrs. Jud. You, Daresby ! Why, Colonel, this is . . . 

Col. Not the Prince ! Then he is concealed in the house ! I see 
all ; follow me, Guards . . . [Sophy throius herself at his feet ; 
H OR ATI A and Barbara rush to the door.] 

HORATIA. You shall pass over my corpse ! I am desperate ! [The 
door suddenly opens. Filter Charles guarded by O'Shannon and 
the Corporal.] 

All the Young Ladies. The Prince ! horrors ! the Prince ! 

Daresby. My chum, Charles Stumply ! 

Charles. My Father ! 

Col. Ah, Scapegrace ! dare you present yourself before me ? 
Under what false and shameful pretences have you entered this 
house ? 

O'Shan. Charles Stumply ! hang the fellow, he 's only a man 
after all. 

Daresby. I cannot contain my surprise. 

Mrs. Jud. The ungrateful vagabond ! he has stolen my best gown 
and hood. 

HORATIA. I shall sink to the cellar. 

Sophia. O Daresby, how comical ! 

Col. Speak, you scamp ! What has induced you to dress your- 
self like — a — speak ! nor add a falsehood to your other faults and 
follies. 

Charles. My dear Father, I have used no deception except that 
of changing my name. I am the deceived, not the deceiver. No 
one present is as much surprised at seeing me, as I myself am at 
finding myself thus. These fair Ladies kindly and willingly took me 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 6i 

in, and I see that, quite unwittingly, I have taken them in also ! 1 
own that I merit your displeasure, but 1 will do so no longer. I have 
received a lesson which I will not soon forget. I will no longer run 
counter to your wishes, but return to the counter for which you 
destined me. I have long devoted myself to a-muse, but now I will 
learn to obey. I own that I too fondly sought the giddy cheer of an 
applauding audience. Romance and her knights had taken posses- 
sion of my fancy, but I have found the nights too cold, and the cheer 
too indifferent. I return with humble regret to my loving Sire, and 
if he will receive me a-gain, he may perhaps be able to make a-gain 
of me yet ! 

Col. Ah, you Rogue, you little merit that I should look at you 
again. The Pretender, indeed ! so farewell to my dreams of fortune! 
I always thought it too good to be true. Ladies, I have to beg a 
thousand pardons for my rudeness in breaking in . . . 

Charles. I must bear that blame, my Father. Had I not broken 
out, you would not have broken in. 

HORATIA. Deceiving Wretch ! could I for a moment . . . 

Charles. No anger, fair Miss Ratty, we had enough of this in- 
dignation at the brink of the vault, when you were near falling out 
with me because I would not fall in with your ideas, and fall into 
the vault. 

Daresby. Ah, Sophy, how you treated me ! 

Sophia. I thought it my duty, dearest. 

Daresby. I can pardon you anything ; but that deceiving Ratty, 
whose word I can never again believe . . , 

Charles. No more of that, Daresby. The farce is ended, the 
mists of mistake are clearing up, the reign of Folly must fall, let not 
Anger survive its cause ! 

Now that we have ended all this War of Words, 
And fall to drawing corks instead of swords. 
Now the Pretender may his Captors mock. 
And view with glee a match without the lock, 
Let each resentful thought and feeling cease, 
And General Harmony conclude the Piece ! 



CHAPTER V 

A.D. 1847-1849 
HOME LIFE 

In 1847 a new interest entered the life of Charlotte Tucker. 
The three little ones of her brother Robert and his wife, — 
Louis, Charley, and Letitia, — came to live at No. 3, and 
were made her especial charge. All of them, but 
particularly the pretty little dark-eyed Letitia, then only 
two years old, were thenceforward as her own ; first in her 
thoughts, and among the first in her love. She taught them, 
trained them, devoted herself to them ; and their names 
will often be found in her letters. The death of Letitia, 
nearly twenty years later, was one of the heaviest sorrows 
she ever had to endure. One is disposed to think that the 
care and responsibility of three little ones, undertaken 
in the midst of a full and busy family life, and in addition 
to all the duties of that life, could have been no sinecure, 
and must have been fraught with many a difficulty. 

The Tuckers were much in society, as may indeed 
have been already gathered. Mr. Tucker was a man 
greatly sought after, alike on account of his position and 
influence, and because of his personal attractiveness. Open 
house was kept ; and the large circle of friends and 
acquaintances never failed to find a welcome. So many 
indeed would drop in and out, that three lunches in 
succession were occasionally known to take place at No. 3 ; 
and so frequent were the ' parties ' to which the family was 

62 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 63 

invited, that sometimes they would appear at three 
different houses in the course of one evening. ' Party ' in 
those days was a wide term, embracing divers kinds of enter- 
tainment, from a simple musical gathering to a large ball. 

Dinner-parties also were numerous. In reference to 
these, Charlotte Tucker wrote rather drolly to her sister 
late in life, speaking of — ' those formal affairs, which you 
and I remember in our earlier days. We must ask So-and- 
so ; and how shall we find gentlemen to counterbalance 
Mrs. and Miss out of one house ? Slow concerns those 
great dinner-parties were ; a kind of social duty, which 
cost much trouble and expense, and gave not much 
pleasure. A kind of very stiff jelly, with not many straw- 
berries in it.' 

An amusing story is told about these large dinners. In 
those days the custom of ' drinking healths ' had gained 
sway to an absurd and objectionable extent ; gentlemen 
being expected to respond to every toast, and not only to 
sip their wine, but very often to empty their glasses, under 
pain of giving serious offence. Mr. Tucker always had by his 
side a decanter of toast and water, from which his glass was 
filled for the various toasts ; and probably those not in the 
secret counted him a marvellously hard-headed man. One 
day a guest requested leave to taste this especial wine, 
which was kept for the host alone, supposing it to be of 
some very rare and choice vintage. His request was 
immediately complied with ; and the face of the bon-vivant 
may be imagined when he discovered himself to be 
drinking toast-and-water. 

No doubt these dinners were a ' social duty ' ; and no 
doubt some of them may have been extremely dull. Yet 
it must not be supposed that Charlotte did not thoroughly 
enjoy London society, and did not fully appreciate in- 
tercourse with polished and intellectual minds. That 
which in her old age would have been a mere weariness to 



64 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

her, was no weariness in youth and early middle age. 
One of her brothers remarks : ' She was very sociable, 
lively, and threw her whole heart into the kindly enter- 
taining of guests of all ages/ Such powers of entertaining 
as she possessed could not but have gone with enjoyment 
in the use of those powers. 

Moreover, the study of different characters, the drawing 
out of other people's thoughts, the gaining of new ideas 
for herself, must have had some fascination. And, despite 
all her kindness, all her readiness to see the best in every- 
body, she could not, with her keen sense of humour, have 
failed to be a good deal amused with the various foibles 
and absurdities which certain people are wont to display, 
even in the best society, and when upon their most circum- 
spect behaviour. 

Ever merry, and ever making others merry, she could, as 
one friend says, ' keep a whole tableful laughing and 
talking,' without difficulty. In fact, whatever the dinner- 
parties may have seemed to herself, her own presence, her 
bright smile and sparkling conversation, effectually pre- 
vented sensations of dulness on the part of others who 
were there. 

Whether Charlotte ever had what, in the language of 
fifty or sixty years ago, was delicately termed a 'preference' 
for anybody, cannot be known. Her hand was at least once 
sought in marriage, while she was still a girl ; and some 
signs seem to have been visible that she was disposed to 
' like ' the gentleman in question. Her parents, however, 
disapproved of the match, and it came to nothing. If at 
any time she really were in love, it is pretty certain that 
she never would have revealed the fact to any mortal 
being until sure that her ' preference ' was returned. The 
reticence which was so marked a feature in her otherwise 
frank and open nature would undoubtedly have had sway 
in this direction. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 65 

Speaking to a friend, long after in old age, she said that 
in her young days ' at home,' when a certain nameless 
gentleman was supposed to be paying his addresses to 
Fanny, the other sisters were ' very indignant ' at the idea 
of any man wishing to break into their sisterly circle. 
This probably preceded her own little affair, since Fanny 
was four years her senior. The pretty notion of home-life 
and of the unbroken sisterly circle had in time to yield 
before stern facts, as first one sister and then a second 
proved faithless to nursery traditions. 

Wide as was the circle of family acquaintances, the girls 
possessed few intimate outside friends. Mr. Tucker rather 
discouraged such intimacies, considering that his five 
daughters ought to be content with the close companion- 
ship of one another. Charlotte had above all her Laura, 
whom she devotedly loved ; and so satisfying was this 
friendship that she probably cared little for others by 
comparison. 

Mrs. Tucker, in her quiet way, was no less a power in 
the house than was her husband. Though less brilliantly 
gifted, she was very observant, very quaint, very wise, a 
most affectionate Mother, intensely loved and revered by 
all her children. She had her own peculiar mode of 
looking upon things. For instance, — having noticed that 
girls in an evening party, glancing at a mirror, were apt 
to be disquieted to find their dresses disorganised, she 
resolved to have no mirrors at all in her rooms, hoping 
thereby to secure greater peace of mind among her guests. 
It does not seem to have occurred to her, that a vague 
uneasiness about the state of their attire might possibly 
trouble them quite as much as even an uncomfortable 
certainty. 

Another short story of Mrs. Tucker, showing her quiet, 
incisive force of character, may well come in here. She 
had a very strong objection to unkind discussion of 
E 



66 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

people behind their backs. On one occasion, when in the 
drawing-room of a certain lady, other callers beside herself 
were present, and one of the latter rose to leave. No 
sooner was the unfortunate lady gone, than the hostess 
began to speak of her in disparaging terms. Mrs. Tucker 
made no immediate observation ; but presently, turning to 
the hostess, she said mildly, ' I ought to be going, — but I 
really am afraid to do so." Much surprised, the other 
asked why. ' Because,' Mrs. Tucker replied, ' I am 
afraid that when I have left the room you will begin to 
speak of me as you did just now of Mrs. — • — .' The 
courteously uttered reproof — a pretty sharp one, however 
gently bestowed — was accepted in an equally courteous 
spirit ; and the hostess earnestly assured her that nothing 
of the kind should take place. 

There is no need to imagine, because Charlotte was gay 
and bright in society, that she never knew the meaning of 
depression. Shadows of loss and sorrow had not yet 
begun to fall across her pathway ; yet even in those happy 
days she must have grasped the meaning of ' down ' as 
well as ' up.' Rather curiously, she spoke of herself in old 
age as having been when young 'subject to very low 
spirits ' ; or more strictly, she said that she would have 
been so subject, but for the counteracting influences of 
' religion ' and ' work,' the latter arising from the former. 
High spirits seldom exist without some tendency to 
occasional re-action. But certainly the sense of depression, 
whenever it may have assailed her, was not allowed to be a 
weight upon others in her everyday life. 

It was most likely somewhere between 1847 and 1849 
that she began to feel uneasy about going to certain 
kinds of amusement. Fanny was the first to dwell upon 
this subject, and to be unhappy as to exactly what she 
ought or ought not to do. Long years after Charlotte 
Tucker wrote : Sweet Fanny suffered much from her 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 67 

sensitiveness of conscience ' ; and the words may perhaps 
in part have borne reference to such debatings as these. 

Fanny's gentle, yielding nature went no farther than 
being troubled. She did not speak out. But when the 
same questionings spread to the younger sister, matters 
were different. Charlotte was not one who would hesitate 
as to action, in the face of her own conscience. To some 
extent here lies the gist of the matter. While she could go 
with a clear and perfectly easy conscience, able to enjoy 
herself, and untroubled by doubts, she probably did so with- 
out harm to herself, so long as her life was not 'given 
to pleasures,' that is to say, so long as she did not unduly 
love these things, or allow them to occupy a wrong place in 
her life. The moment conscience became uneasy, however, 
there was nothing for her but to stand still and carefully 
to consider her next step. For ' he that doubteth is con- 
demned if he eat,' even though the eating may not be actu- 
ally and intrinsically evil. Whether or no the things were 
in their essence wrong, — and to decide this, each thing 
would have to be regarded apart, entirely on its own merits, 
— they became wrong for Charlotte, so soon as she could no 
longer accept them with a free and happy mind. They 
became wrong, at least, unless she felt her doubts to be 
overridden by the duty of obedience. 

Fanny had doubted and hesitated ; Charlotte doubted, 
and did not hesitate. She went straight to her parents, 
told them frankly what she felt, and asked whether she 
might give up going to such places of entertainment as 
caused her uneasiness. 

Wisely and generously Mr. and Mrs, Tucker yielded. 
If it had become a matter of conscience with her, she 
might remain at home. Although they did not view the 
question in precisely the same light, they would not make 
their conscience the rule for her actions, but would leave 
her free to be guided by the dictates of her own. 



68 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Had they not so responded, had they insisted on 
having her with them still wherever they went, Charlotte 
would have given way. Hers was a high ideal of filial 
submission ; and though she had reached an age when she 
had a right to an independent opinion, yet obedience to 
them ranked in her mind before the necessity to decide 
for herself, in a question where opinions might so greatly 
differ. If they desired her to go, she would go. If the 
matter were left to herself, she would be on the safe side 
in all cases which seemed to her dubious, and would remain 
at home. 

There is little or nothing in her letters of that date 
bearing on this subject ; but the above seems to have been 
her manner of regarding it. While feeling the need to 
draw for herself some line of demarcation between things 
expedient and things inexpedient, she does not appear to 
have fallen into the error, so common amongst really earnest 
and excellent people, of counting that the line which she 
rightly drew for herself must of necessity be the only right 
line for everybody else. Such a view leads to many a harsh 
and un-Christian judgment. What is dangerous for one 
may not be perilous for another, who is differently con- 
stituted. What is needless for one may be an absolute 
duty for another, who is in quite a different position. 
Probably Charlotte saw this. It is worth remarking that, 
while she kept aloof from many entertainments out of the 
house, she never, either then or in later years, refused to 
join in home-parties, or failed to do her utmost to entertain 
the guests. There was nothing morbid or repellent about 
the development of her sense of duty. 

TO MISS D. LAURA TUCKER. 

^Jtily 12, 184S. 
'You are my lovely, loving, and lovable Laura; a Diamond 
among gems, and a Rosebud among flowers. Why do you mention 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 69 

so often the mere handwriting of your letters ? Do you think that I 
see anything in them but the kindness of her who has, in the midst 
of all her engagements, found so much time to devote to me ? My 
own Mother too — how very good to me she has been ! I am grateful 
to her for all her most kind endeavours to set my mind quite at ease 
on the subject of the poor little Robins, . . . 

' We have taken it into our heads that, what between music and 
teaching and writing and visiting, you may have more work on your 
hands than may suit your taste. Under this idea, Fanny, like a dear 
Quixote as she is, formed a grand plan of rushing up to town on 
Thursday by coach with uncle Charlton, who happened to be coming, 
and turning you off the music-stool, or snatching the spelling frame 
from your delicate hand instanter. 

' But I opposed this double-quick march for several reasons, which 
I hope you may think cogent. In the first place, I hope that you 
are not so hard-worked that it would be too much for you for a few 
days more to go on with only the assistance of the fair Sibella and 
Clara. 2ndly, The country seems really doing sweet Fan good. 
She told me yesterday that she did not know when she had felt so 
well. I too am perfectly well. 3rdly, I think at your full table on 
Friday our room would be better than our company. 4thly, We are 
engaged to take tea with Mrs. Edgecombe on that day, 5thly, For 
Fanny to start off by coach and me to follow by fly, would appear to 
me both an extravagant and extraordinary procedure. So, after all 
these reasons, I thought that we had better fix on Saturday for the 
day of our departure, until I heard that Aunt jnust come up to Town 
on Monday. She offered to take us up with her, but as it would of 
course be more agreeable to her to come with tcs, I think that we 
shall find ourselves in dear old Portland Place on Monday morning. 

' I am so much obliged to dearest Mamma for her kind intention 
of taking me to Thalberg's splendid Concert on Monday. It would 
really give me more pleasure if I might present my ticket to dear 
Fanny Lanzun, who has been all kindness and attention to us. You 
know how we wished that one of our family might hear Jenny Lind. 
Now I can hear through your ears ; and none of the Lanzuns have 
had that treat, you know.' 

TO MISS D. L. TUCKER. 

' Oct. 13, 1848. 

' Many thanks for your last sweet note to me, and kind consent to 
fill my place. ... I do hope that you may not find teaching the 



70 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

wearisome task which I sometimes do. Perhaps Aunt Laura may 
succeed better in fixing the attention of her little pupils. At all events, 
/ am grateful to you for undertaking the trouble. You are dear to a 
sister's heart, sweet Laura, and I hope that you are one of the 
blessings for which I am ?iot unthankful. . . . 

' I had two delightful games of chess yesterday with my dear 
Father. . . . What an awful state Vienna is in ! Is not the murder 
of Count Latour dreadful ? ' 

TO THE SAME. 

' Oct. 10, 1849. 

' Another sweet note from my darling Laura. I am rich in letters 
to-day, for I have received three such nice ones. 

' Yesterday evening I spent about an hour at the piano. I did not, 
however, sing any of your especial songs. I began one day — ' The 
world is so bright ' — but my heart and voice failed, because you were 
away. However, I daresay that I shall try again this evening. 
How it would cut up my music, were you to go to any great distance, 
for most of my favourite songs are yours. How I have enjoyed 
hearing you sing them. . . . Farewell, sweet Laura. I must go and 
hear my children their lessons. I hear their little feet and voices 
above me.' 



CHAPTER VI 

A.D. 1847-1850 

GRAVITY AND FUN 

Though verging now on her thirtieth year, Charlotte 
Tucker was still unknown to the public as an Author. If 
the initials A. L. O. E. existed in her mind as a future 
possibility, they had at least not yet appeared upon any 
printed page. 

From time to time, however, her pen was busy ; still in 
the old line of comic or tragic plays, for home amusement. 
In 1847 she wrote The Castle of Sternalt; a Tragedy in 
Two Acts] belonging to the Cavalier and Roundhead 
period of England's history. In that same year she also 
accomplished Griinhaggard Hall; a Farce in Two Acts — 
not historical, but highly comic. After which came 
apparently a gap of two or three years ; and in 1850 she 
wrote. Who Was The Witch ? a Drama in Three Acts 
— historical again, belonging to the days of the Saxons 
and of King Harold, half comic, half tragic. 

It does not appear from these three plays that her 

gift in the dramatic line had made any marked advance 

during the ten years or more which had elapsed since 

first she launched out in this direction. Probably an 

entirely different mode of life from hers, a less sheltered 

existence, a more extensive knowledge of human nature 

in its countless phases, is an absolute necessity to such 

development. There is in them much latent power, how- 

71 



72 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

ever unequal and undeveloped, whether it be of the grave 
or of the sparkling and humorous description. The 
following quotation from the Castle of Sternalt will give 
an idea of her tragic style at that period. Ravensby, the 
hero, is a Cavalier, imprisoned and condemned to death 
on a false charge of murder. 

ACT IV. — SCENE I. 

a dungeon. 
Ravensby. . 

' Th' intensity of grief destroys itself 
The torturer beholds his Victim stretched 
Unconscious, pain itself o'ercome by pain. 
Fate dooms me now to death ; last punishment 
Which mortal can inflict, — and yet I feel 
There 's mercy in the doom. Thus to live on 
Were lingering martyrdom ; it were to die 
By inches, drain my heart's blood drop by drop. 
One flash ends all ! O Clara, when my soul 
Hath ceased to suffer, can it cease to love ? 
Methinks, when quitting Earth, 'twill still retain 
Her image, who was more than Earth to me ! 
It is a portion of my being, twined 
With every thought and feeling ; thou wilt weep. 
My Clara ; thou canst not believe him false 
To faith and friends, who is so true to thee. 
Gazing into the uncorrupted depths 
Of thy pure feelings, thou wilt judge of mine. 
When all denounced me, thou wert still my friend 
When all forget, thou wilt remember still ! 

Enter Agnes. 
Agnes, aside. 

I ne'er have feared the eye of mortal man, 

Why should I shrink from his ? 
Rav. Who comes to break 

The prisoner's solitude ? 
Agn. One who would be 

The prisoner's friend. 
Rav. I have no friend — save one. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 73 

Agn. Can he speak thus who hath so long espoused 

The Royal cause, and served that cause so well ? 

Who, girt with honours, well deserved, hath stood 

One in a noble Brotherhood of Fame ! 

Where are the Cavaliers who fought with thee 

In battle, side by side, who with thee shared 

The feast, and drained the wine-cup to your King ? 

Where are they now ? what, gone ? not one remains, 

T' assert thy innocence, or shield thee from 

An ignominious death. Friends ! out upon them ! 

They mock the name ; it were not thus, if thou 

Hadst drawn thy gallant sword with those who wear 

No chains but those of Virtue, those who own 

No earthly Monarch, and uphold no power 

But that of Liberty ; whose friendship lasts 

Not only when the red wine sparkles high, 

And revelry and song profane the night ; 

If such had been thy comrades and thy friends. 

Thou hadst not been forsaken thus. 
Rav. No more ! 
Agn. The gate thou hast defended with thy blood. 

To-morrow casts thee forth, led out to die ; 

And the proud towers coldly will look down 

Upon the closing scene ; for hearts more hard 

And more impregnable decree thy doom. 

Thou diest a traitor's death ; — but wert thou ours^ 

Then ev'ry bush around the fatal spot 

Should hold an armed defender, ev'ry knoll 

Conceal an ambushed friend, and at a word 

A wall of steel should bristle round thy breast ; 

Then swords should clash with swords, and they who came 

To shed thy blood lie weltering in their own. 

If thou wert ours — and yet thou mayst be ours, 

Rav. Cease, for I know thee. Temptress ; words like these 

Betray the fair false lips from which they flow. 

Thou 'rt Agnes, own it, — Gasper Tarlton's love. 
Agn. Agnes I am, not Gasper Tarlton's love. 

The thistledown that floats upon the breeze, 

The thorny weed which from my path I spurn. 

The insect which I crush beneath my tread, 

Are not to me more insignificant, 

More worthless — than the Slave whom thou hast named. 



74 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Rav. Thank Heaven ! then my last doubt melts away ; 

He yet is true, yet faithful to his King ; 

My sacrifice will not be made for nought. 

Maid, he is honoured in thy hate ! 

Agn. And thou 

Rav. Leave me. 

Agn. To perish ! 

Rav. Thou canst not defend. 

Agn. I could, — yes, I could arm in thy behalf 

A thousand gallant hands, might I but say, 

' The injured will on the oppressor turn, 

Unite the love of freedom with revenge, 

A thousand-fold repay the debt he owes 

To your brave confidence ; in Ravensby 

Ye will destroy a foe and win a friend ! ' 

Could I speak thus 

Rav. Thy sex protects thee, Maid, 

Or thou shouldst learn the meed of treason. Hence ! 
Agn. From other lips such words I had not borne. 

Why should I thus urge life upon thee, — why 

Seek to preserve thee in thine own despite ? 

thou art worthy of a nobler cause ; 

1 see in thee one who can nobly dare. 
Firmly resolve, and boldly execute ; — 

And what a bright career before thee lies 

Rav. a brief one, — from the dungeon to the tomb. 

Agn. To die a Traitor in the eyes of men. 

Rav. Better than live a villain in my own. 

Depart, and leave me to my fate. Away ! 

Agn. O brave and glorious ! I will tempt no more. 
My pride is humbled. I have found a soul 
That soars beyond mine own. I would not rob 
Thy pinion of one plume. I watch thy flight 
With kindling emulation. O for power 
To follow it, that I above this sphere 
Might rise ; companion, not unworthy thee ! 

Rav. a step approaches. 

Agn. None must see me here. \Retires into shade.'] 

Agnes in the end confesses herself guilty of the crime 
for which he is condemned to death ; — in time to save his 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 75 

name from lasting disgrace, though not in time to save 
his Hfe. 

Who Was The Witch ? though in parts amusing enough, 
is hardly so good as the others. Modern English puns sit 
oddly upon a background of pre-mediaeval Saxon history. 
Grimhaggard Hall is perhaps one of A. L. O. E.'s most 
comic and laughable jeux-d' esprit, over which one can 
picture the family as enjoying many a hearty laugh. The 
perpetual play upon words, and the almost rollicking fun 
and nonsense of the whole, remind one of her earlier effort, 
The Pretender, already given at length ; though the later- 
written farce is in some respects scarcely equal to the 
girlish achievement. Both these plays illustrate well 'the 
frisky and frolicsome side of a character which was in some 
respects not only intensely serious, but absolutely stern. 
Charlotte Tucker's was truly a many-sided nature. 

Whether at this time she had already begun to write 
anything in the shape of children's story-books does not 
appear. It is by no means unlikely, since the date of her 
first appearance in print was now fast drawing near. 

The chief characters in Grimhaggard Hall are — Mr. 
Cramp ; Mr. Scull, an artist ; Mr. Wriggle, a tutor ; Miss 
Cob ; and Nellie, daughter of Mr. Cramp. 

ACT I. 

Library iii Grimhaggard Hall. Nellie and Mr. Wriggle. 

Nellie. O my dear old Tutor, I shall be so sorry to lose you ! I 
wish that my good Father had kept to his old plan, and instead of 
sending Bob to College had kept both you and him here. This house 
is so intolerably dull. When you are gone I shall sit looking at the 
old stones in the old wall, till I petrify into one myself. Why, the 
very spiders' webs look as though there were no business doing in 
them, and not a Jiy nor even a broom would call at the door ! 
Heigh-ho ! 



76 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Wrig. You forget, honoured Madam, the governess, IMiss Cob, 
who is expected here to-morrow. 

Nell. A governess ; the horror ! then I hear that she is an 
oddity ; so absent ; very learned though, and extremely well-in- 
formed. I am rather old for a governess ; I was seventeen last 
March. It would have been quite a different thing to have gone on 
with my studies here with you and Bob. Do you know that, without 
vanity, I consider that I have made amazing progress during the 
month that you have been here ? 

Wrig. In Geography, Madam, for instance. Let me have the 
honour of recalling to your oblivious memory that only yesterday you 
forgot the situation of Guinea. 

Nell. Nonsense ! I said that it was on the Gold Coast, and 
wished I had it in my own pocket. 

Wrig. I have remarked with regret, if you will permit me to say 
it, an aversion to consulting the Atlas, which 

Nell. Keep me from you and your atlas ! Atlas carried the world, 
and you would burden me with the Atlas. I hardly consider myself 
competent yet to carry the whole globe on my poor little shoulders. 
I should like to know what is the use of knowing the situation of this 
place and that place, to one who never has the satisfaction of seeing 
any place at all beyond the walls of our stupid garden. I wish that 
the cross old gentleman who bequeathed my father Grimhaggard 
Hall, had Hved to repent it, that I do ! I would rather live in the 
narrowest lane in the City than be cooped up here like a toad 
in a block. I 've no fancy to be a Penelope, — stitch, stitch, 
stitch ! 

Wrig. Penelope was a distinguished ornament to her sex. 

Nell. O dear Tutor, I know that she was a duck of a queen, but 
distinguished for nothing but her web-feat. 

Wrig. The resource of literature remains to you, Madam, which 
was never open to her. I would again venture to draw your attention 
to the subject of Geography. 

Nell. O no more of that, I beg, my dear Mr. Wriggle. I know 
that Ham and Sandwich are in the kitchen, China in the cupboard, 
and Madeira in the cellar. That is enough for me. I regard Geo- 
graphy simply in reference to utility. I 'm quite a utilitarian by 
principle. You know that the greatest navigator was a Cook ; I dare 
say that he discovered Chiii, Cayenne, and Curaqoa. Now do you 
know, my wise old Tutor, in spite of your white hair and all your 
learning, I think that I could puzzle you. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER yy 

Wrig. It would be difficult, Madam, to place a limit to your 
powers. 

Nell. Tell me, why is Botany Bay called Botany Bay? 

Wrig. I am not, I must own, aware from what the name is de- 
rived. Probably the Botanist has there discovered some new and 
curious specimens of plants. 

Nell. O you must have come from Dimse or the Scilly Isles. 
Botany Bay is called Botany Bay, because blossoms of the birch and 
sprigs of the gallows-tree are transplanted there without their 
leaves. 

Wrig. I see ! I see ! Ha, ha ! 

Nell. I wonder if Miss Cob will understand a joke, — if she will 
ever perpetrate a pun. Do you know I fancy her such a prim old 
quiz ? I should like to know whether she will play at chess with 
Papa, or teach me the guitar, as you do. Do you think that she will 
endure this house ? 

Wrig. The total want of all society, except that which the walls 
of Grimhaggard Hall have the honour constantly to enclose, may 
perhaps have an effect upon the lady's spirits not altogether exhilarat- 
ing ; but when your brother returns from College, perhaps he may 
be accompanied by some of his fellow-students. 

Nell. Students ; what an idea I When my Father would sooner 
see a Goblin than a young man under any circumstances ! 

Wrig. Is not this rather a peculiar — rather a singular — I would 
say prejudice ? Could such a word be applicable to the excellent Mr. 
Cramp ? 

Nell. I should say very singular indeed, did I not know its cause. 

Wrig. Is it presumptuous to inquire what that cause may be ? 

Nell. O I '11 tell you in a moment. It all arises out of the freaks 
and folly of Mr. Grim of Grimhaggard Hall, who had, I am sorry to 
say, the kindness to leave us this property, and thereby consigned me 
to the dolefuls for the rest of my life. 

Wrig. Was the estate bequeathed under any unpleasant condi- 
tions ? I never heard your respected father complain of such. 

Nell. O it is all right to my father because it was all left to him. 
But you shall hear. This Mr. Grim had a promising nephew, . . . 
and this nephew, Mr. Atherton by name, was very naturally con- 
sidered as Mr. Grim's heir, the old gentleman never having persuaded 
any lady to marry him, and reign like another Proserpine over the 
gloomy shades of Grimhaggard Hall. 

Wrig. How then came the estate to your Father ? 



78 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Nell. Have a little patience, my dear Mr, Wriggle, and you shall 
be as learned as myself upon the subject. Well, this old uncle 
quarrelled with this young nephew. I think that it was about poli- 
tics or some such absurdity ; the elder was a Tory and the junior a 
Radical ; no, the young one was the Tory, and the old one the Radi- 
cal ; and this radical question was the roof of the quarrel. Now 
what do you think the spiteful old gentleman did ? 

Wrig. Disinherited his nephew, and left the property to Mr. 
Cramp, 

Nell. That would have been a pretty severe lesson to the young 
man ; but what do you say to the affectionate uncle leaving such 
a clause as this in his will ? That my father must only have and 
hold this said Grimhaggard Hall, on condition of poor Mr. Ather- 
ton's never even crossing the threshold of what he once considered 
his home ! The place must be perfectly //-^/r-tight. If he ever 
passes twelve hours under this roof, the whole estate is to revert 
to him. 

Wrig, Such a clause argues little charity ; but perhaps it may 
ultimately prove for the benefit of him whom it was designed to 
injure, 

Nell, Ah, you think that Mr. Atherton may still manage to get 
his property out of his old uncle's clause ! I am sure I wish that Mr. 
Grim had left the dull place to him, or any one but us ; but then my 
Father is not of my mind. Yet even he has not an atom of enjoyment 
of his prize, from the perpetual fear of losing it. He has heard that 
young Atherton is very sharp and clever ; of course he will try to 
regain his rights by any means that may present themselves ; so I 
really believe that Papa expects him to appear some day or other 
through the key-hole. The gate is kept constantly locked, — luckily, 
one can see the high-road from the house, — nothing in the shape of 
a Man is permitted to pass it ; we have even parted with all men- 
servants, lest Mr. Atherton should manage to get in disguised as a 
lackey. Grimhaggard Hall is a regular Convent. A travelling 
pedlar is regarded with suspicion ; the butcher-boy must hand the 
leg of mutton over the gate ; the young apothecary is an object of 
terror, — I could not have a tooth pulled out, were I to die for it. 
Dear me, how it is raining ! The weather seems endeavouring to 
find out whether it be possible to make Grimhaggard Hall look a little 
duller than usual. 

Wrig. I hope Miss Cob may be fortunate in having finer weather 
for her journey to-morrow. 

Nell. She is on the road to-day, like John Gilpin's hat and wig. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 79 

She was to leave Puddingham this morning, and rest to-night at the 
Jolly Bridecake at Mouseton. I hope the coach is provided with oar 
and rudders, for she will certainly have to swim for it ! . . . 

In the midst of this talk an artist's gig is smashed outside 
the front gate ; and the artist, Mr. Scull, being much shaken, 
is actually admitted within the walls of the old Hall, to the 
great disquiet of Mr. Cramp, who is determined that, come 
what may, the young man shall not remain through the 
night. It is a pelting day, and no other conveyance 
seems likely to pass ; while the artist is plainly unable to 
walk the distance which separates Grimhaggard Hall 
from the next town. While this matter is still under dis- 
cussion, a ring at the front-door bell is heard, and ' a 
woman of very singular appearance ' is seen ' standing in 
the rain, without an umbrella, as if water were her native 
element' 

Nell. Who can it be? \Runs to the wmdow.'] Why, how tall 
she is ! she looks as though she had grown a foot since that dress 
was made for her. What an extraordinary figure ! Why, Sarah is 
actually letting her in. Papa, we have not had so many visitors 
since we came here. Grimhaggard Hall is growing quite gay. 

Cramp. I will go and meet this strange guest. [Exit.l 

Nell. It cannot be — it cannot be Miss Cob ! Such a governess 
would kill me either with terror or with laughter. 

Wrig. You were in expectation. Madam, of some one remarkable 
for eccentricity. We must not always judge of the qualities of the 
mind by the singularity of the exterior. 

Enter Mr. Cramp and Miss Cob. 

Cramp. Miss Cob, — my daughter. [Nelly makes a curtsey, Miss 
Cob a bow.'] 

Nell. {Aside to Wriggle.] I shall never keep my countenance. 

Wrig. [Aside.'] That is to be regretted, for it is a very fair one. 

Cramp. We did not expect you to-night, Ma'am. Did you not 
purpose sleeping at Mousetown ? 

Miss C. The inn was chock-full. 

Cramp. But how came you to be on foot? You never have 
walked all the way ! Where is your conveyance ? It would be of the 
utmost service to me. 



8o THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Miss C. Smashed on the road. 

Cramp. Well, if all the gigs and cabs in England are not in 
coalition against me this day ! And where is your luggage ? 

Miss C. Coming. You did not expect me to carry it on my back, 
like a snail, did ye ? 

Wrig. Miss Cob, like an experienced general, leaves her baggage 
in the rear. 

Nell. I should rather have expected to find it in the van. You 
are very wet, Ma'am ; shall I help you off with your cloak ? 

Miss C. O never mind. I'm neither sugar nor salt; only it's a 
plaguy thing to have one's dress so long, walking through such a 
bog. 

Nell. [Aside.] How /ono- she may have had her dress, I know 
not ; but in one sense I am sure it is short enough. 

Miss C. This seems a good big house, but rather too much like a 
prison. Have you those bars on all the windows ? 

Cramp. On all. 

Miss C. And how many men-servants do you keep ? 

Cramp. None at all. [Aside.] What impertinent curiosity ! 

Nell. [Aside.] Shall I venture to address her again ? I can 
scarcely command myself. [Aloud.] Pray, Ma'am, are you fond of 
music? 

Miss C. I 'm a regular dab at it. 

Nell. What instrument do you play ? 

Miss C. All sorts of instruments, from the drum to the Jew's harp. 

Nell. You don't play the cornopion ? 

Miss C. Like bricks, — and sing all the time. You shall hear me 
to-morrow. [All stare i?t mute amaze7)ic7it.] 

Cramp. May I trouble you. Ma'am, to let me see your letter of 
introduction from Lady Myres again ? 

Miss C. Heartily welcome. You will read all about me there. 
Full details of manners and accomplishments. She says I 'm a little 
absent sometimes ; so if ever I make a few trifling blunders, I hope 
you '11 set them down to that score. 

Nell. [Aside to Wriggles.] 1 wish she were absent now, for 
I think I shall die in convulsions. 

Miss C. I '11 teach you all sorts of things suitable for a lady. 
Knitting, netting, — crow — crowfoot . . . 

Wrig. I see that nothing is beyond your apprehension. 

Miss C. What do you say about ai)i)rehensionl Are you a police 
officer ? 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 8i 

Wrig. No, Madam, I am a humble Professor of Geography, 
Geology, Algebra, and . . . 

Miss C. O I 'm a match for you in all that, and I know Latin, Greek, 
and American besides. 

Wrig. And what tongue, Madam, do you prefer ? 

Miss C. O I 'm not particular about those sort of things ; but if 
you want my opinion, why I think pickled tongues are excellent. 

Wrig. \_Tttrmng away laughmg?^ This is either too bad or too 
good ! \Aloiid^ And your other studies, Ma'am ? 

Miss C. As for Arithmetics, they're at my fingers'-ends. 

Nell. I have not yet got beyond the Rule of Three. 

Miss C. You shall know the Rule of Four-and-twenty, before I 
have done with you. We '11 skip the 4, 5j'and 6. 

Nell. And the Rule of Three inverse ? 

Miss C. In verse.'' Yes, you shall have it in all sorts of verse, 
merry, tragical, and comical. 

Nell, [Aside.] I shall expire with laughter. [Retires to the 
window.'] 

Wrig. [Aside.] I really cannot stand this any longer. [Follows 
her.] 

Scull (the artist). Pray, Madam, may I venture to ask if you 
paint ? 

Miss C. You are a very impudent fellow, to ask a gentle — woman 
if she paints. Do I look as if I painted.^ 

Scull. I beg a million pardons, Ma'am, but as I paint myself . . . 

Miss C. You paint precious badly then, for you're as yellow as a 
cowslip ! 

Cramp. [Aside.] Is the woman intoxicated or insane? 

Scull. I think — I imagine that there is a little misapprehension, 
Ma'am, on your part. My vocation is that of an artist. 

Nell. O Miss Cob, you must see his sketches. 

Scull. You see. Ma'am, there is a new work to come out at 
Christmas, which is to be entitled, — The Mouse o?i the Mantelpiece. 
The letterpress is in very able hands,— a very pretty little fairy-tale 
for grown-up children, — that 's all the rage now, you know, in this 
enlightened age. But the illustrations will be the great thing. A 
steel-plate frontispiece, of course, in which will be introduced a 
number of winged mice in a variety of positions, — a very clever thing, 
I can assure you ; and then wood-cuts, — I have the honour of being 
intrusted with the designs for them. We are to have a different 
illustration for the top of every column. 



82 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

Nell. That will no doubt be capital. 

Scull. It will form a very elegant little volume altogether, — the 
most remarkable publication of the day. 

Miss C. Well, after my wet walk, I think I 'd be the better for 
something to warm me. 

Nell. You shall have some tea directly, Ma'am. 

Miss C. Tea ! Wishy-washy stuff! 

Nell. Would you prefer gruel ? 

Miss C. Gruel ! I wish you joy of your fare ! 

Nell. [Aside.] The fair Arithmetician looks as though she would 
not have 3 Scruples to a Dram ! 

Cramp. I dare say Miss Cob is fatigued after her long walk. 
Nelly, show her the apartment. I hope everything is comfortable 
there. 

Nell. Certainly, Papa. [Aside to Wriggle.] At any rate, I will 
venture to say that her room is better than her company. [Exeunt 
Nelly and Miss Cob.] 

And so on, — the wind-up of the story being that Miss 
Cob is found to be a burglar in woman's disguise ; while 
the artist is a harmless nobody. But elderly Wriggles, 
the tutor, who has lived quietly in the house for a month 
past, and of whom even Mr. Cramp has had no suspicions, 
turns out to be the much dreaded nephew, and to 
him by right Grimhaggard Hall now appertains. As, 
however, he has managed to fall deeply in love with the 
punning heroine, all difficulties are solved by their 
marriage, — Nellie being equally in love with him. Thus 
the nephew gains the old home, and the uncle does not 
lose it. 



CHAPTER VII 

A.D. 1849-1853 

THE FIRST GREAT SORROW, AND THE FIRST BOOK 

It must have been at about this time that Charlotte became 
increasingly anxious for more of definite outdoor work 
among the poor. Her wish was to be allowed to visit in 
the Marylebone Workhouse ; but difficulties for a while 
barred her way. Mr. Tucker objected strongly, fearing 
the risk of infectious diseases for his daughters ; and no 
doubt the risk in those days was far greater than in these, 
considering the then condition of Workhouses generally. 

So long as permission was refused, Charlotte seems to 
have contented herself with the simple duties of home-life. 
She was not one who would restlessly fight for and insist 
upon her own way at all costs, under the plea of doing 
what was right. Rather, one may be sure, she counted the 
prohibition as in itself sufficient indication of the Divine 
Will. However, while submitting, she probably used from 
time to time some little pressure to bring about another 
state of things ; and somewhere about the beginning of 
185 1 her parents' 'reluctant consent' was, we are told, at 
length given. From that time she and Fanny visited 
regularly in the Workhouse. 

In 1849 Charlotte's eldest sister, Sibella, was married to 
the Rev. Frederick Hamilton, for some time Curate to Mr. 
Garnier, the Vicar of Holy Trinity Church, which they all 
regularly attended. Mr. Garnier and his wife. Lady 

83 



84 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Caroline, were especial friends of Charlotte, through many 
a long year. Thus the first break in the charmed circle of 
sisters was made ; and Fanny was now ' Miss Tucker,' 
Charlotte being the second home-daughter. 

Until the spring of 1850 Mr. Tucker kept his health 
and vigour to a marvellous extent for a man eighty years 
old, — for one too who had worked more or less hard 
through life from the age of fourteen or fifteen. He still 
attended to his India House business, not seeming to find 
it too much for his strength ; and in the April of that year, 
after making a speech in Court, he was congratulated by 
a brother-Director upon the force and energy with which 
he had spoken. ' Ah,' he replied, ' it is only the last 
flicker of the taper before it goes out.' 

No one had noticed aught to be wrong with him, but 
perhaps he had himself been conscious of failing power. 
Soon afterwards a sharp attack of fever and inflammation 
laid him low, and most serious fears for his life were felt. 
It was a time of terrible suspense to his own family ; not 
least so to Charlotte, who had always loved him with an 
intense devotion. Probably few fathers are quite so 
devotedly beloved as was old Mr. Tucker ; but not many 
men, and especially not many men of his years, can throw 
themselves into the interests and amusements of their 
children, as he was able to do. 

They had till then hardly realised how suddenly 
the call might come. As his biographer says, he had 
been always ' so full of life, there had been so much 
activity of body, so much energy of mind, so much 
elasticity of spirit, that they had never associated with all 
this vitality a thought of the stillness of death.' Now, 
without warning, the foe was at their very door ; and the 
shadow of his great danger weighed heavily upon them all. 

In answer to many prayers he was given back to them 
again, just for a little while. But they could never quite 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 85 

forget how nearly he had been taken from them, how 
unexpectedly the great separation might come. 

Another event of 1850 was the marriage of Charlotte's 
brother, William Tucker, at Brussels. It came almost 
immediately upon Mr. Tucker's rally from his severe 
illness ; and Charlotte had the pleasure of being taken 
to Brussels for the wedding by her brother, St. George 
Tucker, then home for a short time from India. It 
would be interesting to know her first impressions of the 
Continent, but not many letters of this date are available. 
The two which follow are among the last belonging to her 
unshadowed younger life, before the true meaning of loss 
and sorrow had dawned upon her. One black cloud had 
gathered and dispersed ; but it was soon to roll up again ; 
and then the storm would break. 

' Oct. 3, 1850. 

' Dearest Laura, — We have finished the volume of stories 
which we were reading — which by the way resembled the pottles of 
strawberries sold in the streets, capital at the beginning, but as one 
gets further on, miserably inferior — and now Fanny has gone to her 
dear Will-making, so I keep her pen in company by writing to you. 
I soon knocked off my Will, and we have just the same sum to 
dispose of, but her large sheets of paper are not covered yet. 

'Now what shall I write to you about, dear — for we write so 
often that it is impossible that we should often have much to write 
about ? The sun shines one day, and does not shine another ; the 
sea is rough one morning and calm the next. I may have to follow 
the style of Letitia in her well-known note, " sometimes we pass 
Fummity, and sometimes we do not." Things go on quietly, nothing 
changed but my half-sovereign. I had to buy new ribbons for 
Letitia to-day, and fear that I shall have to supply the children with 
fresh gloves. 

' I have been reading about our poor friend, the first of the 
Blacks, to-day ; and it appears that his character was ver}^ fairly drawn 
by Miss Martineau. I was glad to know a little about the after 
doings in Hayti, and find that Dessalines — that fierce fellow, husband 
of Theresa — was made first Emperor, and killed in about two years. 
He was a great savage, but his wife an amiable^lady. Then came 



86 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

King Henri I. — our friend Christopher the Cook — who was king at the 
time that my informant wrote, that is to say, in 1 8 19. A famous king 
he seems to be, or have been, with a good palace, standing army of 
25,000 men kept in strict disciphne, a hereditary aristocracy— all of 
the colour of coal — and ecclesiastical establishment. He was con- 
sidered in person very much like King George ill. — barring com- 
plexion, I suppose — and, in short, that part of Hayti which owned 
him for king seemed in a very flourishing condition in 18 19. 

' Do you remember the name of Thaurepas (?), the blacky General 
who weakly surrendered his post to the French t What do you think 
the grateful Monsieurs did to him ? Nailed epaulettes on his shoulders 
and a cocked hat on his head, and then threw him with his wife 
and children into the sea ! Would one believe such things of men 
in the 19th century ? I should like to know something of the present 
state of Hayti, and whether the throne is filled by a son of Henri I., 
for I suppose that Christopher is hardly living still. If he were, 
would you not like to have his autograph ? 

' I have told you all this about Hayti, because I thought that, like 
myself, you would be pleased to know what really became of the 
characters in Miss Martineau's Romance, and one seldom meets 
with a book which throws any light upon such an out-of-the-way 
subject.' 

' Oct. 18, 1850. 

' Dearest Laura, — We have been luxuriating in the letters from 
Paris. . . . All things look so bright and joyous ! I have twice sung 
"The World is so Bright" to-day con ainore, and my heart is so 
lightsome that I could dance. I do not think that I have ojice seen 
precious Father dull since my return. He desires me to say that he 
cannot quite countenance a visit to Lebanon. It is rather too far, 

and Lord Ellesmere was very ill on his way thither ; so dear 

must give up her Blackbeard, and content herself with Sir Peter. 
Now Mamma is reading St. George's note. Papa is smiling away, 
— his dear lips apart. He looks so nice in Clara's beautiful cap ! 

'Henry thinks so much of you, dear. He says that you are a 
sweet girl, and that he loves you extremely. I cannot tell you all 
the kind things he says of you. . . . 

'We are such a comfortable party, and our loved absent ones help 
to make us more so. . . . This is a very disconnected sort of note, a 
sort of patchwork, for my ears are as much employed as my hand, 
and I have every now and then a message to darn in, — then, O my 
chilblains ! But I am determined to complain of nothing, for I am 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 87 

so overloaded with blessings. Dearest Parents are just going 
out. The weather is delicious. The world is so bright, the world 
is so fair ! Yes, even now, when she has only a wreath of dahlias, 
and decks herself in yellow like the sweet little Blossom 1 . . . 

' I should like to think that our dear trio are enjoying them- 
selves as much at Paris as I am at home. I hope and trust that 
we may all have such a happy winter together, when " Love's 
shining circlet" has all its gems complete except the dear Indian 
absentees.' 



This was written in the autumn following Mr. Tucker's 
dangerous illness. After a long and tedious convalescence, 
his health had steadily improved through the summer 
months, and during the autumn he seemed to be almost 
himself again, — able to walk out regularly, able to read 
much and thoroughly to enjoy being read to by his wife 
and daughters. In the evenings he would delight in their 
music, varied by merry talk and by an occasional rubber 
of whist. 

With the coming of winter acute neuralgic pains took 
possession of him ; and though some little improvement 
was seen with the advent of spring, it was not permanent. 
In the end of May 185 1 he was taken to Brighton for a 
few days' change ; after which he became worse and then 
again better. Amid these fluctuations, which included at 
times very severe suffering, his manly courage and patience 
were never known to fail. 

On the tenth of June he seemed so far improved as to 
talk of going next day to the India House, for the 
Wednesday's Council. The Doctor strongly opposed this ; 
and Mr. Tucker went instead to a Flower- Show, with his 
daughters. For two days afterward he seemed particularly 
well. On Friday night there was no apparent change for 
the worse ; and his usual tender good-night to them all 
had in it no shadow of approaching calamity. 

But the end was at hand. Before morning sharp illness 



88 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

had seized upon him ; and before twelve o'clock he had 
passed away. 

It was a heavy blow to all who knew him ; above all to 
his wife and children. He had been the very life of the 
house, the very spring of home-brightness. Charlotte's 
little niece, Bella Frances, daughter of the elder brother, 
Henry Carre Tucker, came to spend her first English 
holidays in the house, not long after Mr. Tucker's death, 
and she found the whole family 'plunged in gloom,' — 
Charlotte Tucker being exceedingly sad and grave. The 
only one, indeed, of the whole party who was able to 
speak cheerfully was Laura. It is probable that Laura 
had at that date a dawning outside interest in her life, not 
possessed by any of the others, which may have enabled 
her to bear up somewhat better than they could. 

Many months earlier, after the sharp illness of the 
preceding year, Mr. Tucker had written a letter to all his 
children, thanking them for their ' late unwearied and 
devoted attentions ' to him. After desiring them ' not to 
give way to strong emotions,' he had gone on to say, — ' I 
have reached a very advanced age, and must be prepared 
for a change. Old age has its infirmities and suffering, 
and a prolonged existence is not to be desired. Your 
care should now be to comfort and console your beloved 
mother, who has been everything to me and everything 
to you all. I trust that she will not leave this house, in 
which we have all enjoyed so much happiness ; and I feel 
assured that you will all tenderly watch over her, and 
contribute by every means in your power to her future 
comfort.' 

This wish was fulfilled. Mrs. Tucker never did leave 
No. 3 Upper Portland Place, except of course for 
necessary change. It remained her home, and the 
home of her daughters, from the year 185 1, when her 
husband died, until her own death in the year 1869. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 89 

How much of life's sunshine had been swept out of 
Charlotte's life by the loss of her Father, it is perhaps 
impossible for any one to estimate who did not personally 
know Mr. Tucker. Not that all her sunshine had 
departed ! Apart from her own inherent elasticity of 
spirit, she was devotedly attached to her Mother ; and she 
had still the tender and satisfying companionship of Laura. 

That while deeply saddened, she was not crushed, is 
shown by the following letter to her little niece, Bella F. 
Tucker, dated August 9, 1851 : — 

' The sun has been shining so beautifully lately, and the reapers 
have been busy in the fields. It is a sight to warm the heart, to see 
the yellow sheaves covering the land, and we should bless God for 
an abundant harvest. There is a clover-field near us, and it looks 
like a beautiful carpet of lilac and green. I was calculating that 
there must be more than two million blossoms in that one field ; and 
each blossom may be perhaps the home of many insects. . . . Then 
what is that field compared to all England, or England to Europe, or 
Europe to the whole world ? Neither your little head, nor the wisest 
man's, can imagine how many blossoms and how many insects there 
are on this great globe, — it makes one almost giddy to think of it, — 
and then to consider that all the world itself is only like a speck in 
God's Creation, that there are said to be eigJity fnillions of fixed stars, 
each of which has very likely worlds moving round it. And God 
made all. How very great and wonderful He must be ! It seems 
surprising that He should care for every one on this little ball, — how 
much more astonishing that He should have condescended to come 
and live upon it, to have appeared as a feeble Child in one of the 
worlds that He had made, and then actually to die, like one of the 
creatures that He had formed ! Is not God's power wonderful, and 
His love more wonderful still ? 

' When you look at the bright blue sky, do you never long to fly 
up like the birds, — no, much higher than the birds can fly, to your 
Home, to your Father which is in Heaven ? I hope that time may 
come, sweet Bella, but now is the time to prepare. I sometimes 
think that this life is our school-time. We are now to learn lessons 
of faith and patience and love. When our education is finished we 
shall be allowed to go Home ; and Death will be the gentle Messenger 



90 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

to say, — "Your Heavenly Father sends for you ; come and join your 
loved ones who have gone before. O that will be joyful, when we 
meet to part no more 1 " ' 

There is a tone of quiet sadness running through the 
letter, in marked contrast with those joyous epistles to her 
sister Laura quoted earlier in this chapter. The world 
could never again be to her ' so bright, so fair ! ' as in the 
days when her Father was still upon earth. No doubt as 
time went on the buoyancy of her temperament reasserted 
itself ; but life was no longer unshadowed ; and other 
troubles soon followed. 

One of these must certainly have been the marriage of 
her sister Laura, though no letters are at hand to show 
what she felt. Mr. Otho Hamilton, elder brother to the 
Rev. Frederick Hamilton, who had married Charlotte's 
eldest sister, sought Laura's hand ; and he was accepted. 

Not entirely without hesitation. Perhaps i^w girls can 
say, or ought to say, ' Yes ' at once, without time for con- 
sideration. When the offer came, Laura's first impulse 
was, naturally, to go to her Mother for advice ; her second 
impulse was to go to her friend-sister. It is not hard to 
realise what the thought must have been to Charlotte of 
losing this dearly-loved companion, — her room-mate and 
the constant sharer of her thoughts and interests from very 
infancy ; nor is it difficult to believe how bravely she 
would put aside the recollection of herself, viewing the 
question from Laura's standpoint alone. It must, however, 
be remembered that Charlotte was romantically enthusiastic 
on the subject of others' engagements, and was through 
life ardently interested in the marriages of her friends. 
In the present case her knowledge of how highly her 
Father had thought of Mr. Hamilton w^ould be an 
additional incentive to put no obstacle in the way. It 
seems that Laura's hesitation had arisen, not from any 
doubt as to her own feelings, but simply from a desire to 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 91 

be sure of her duty. The engagement took place ; and 
on the 19th of October 1852, Laura Tucker became Mrs. 
Hamilton. So another leaf was turned in the story of 
Charlotte's life. 

And now, in the very midst of these changes and losses 
arose a new interest. Hitherto, Charlotte had written a 
good deal, but she had never published, perhaps had never 
even thought of publishing. What first led her to adopt 
the style of fiction, by which she was soon to become 
known, it is possible at least to conjecture. In 1850, as 
we have seen, she wrote another of her merry plays, full of 
fun and humour. Now, suddenly, she seems to have 
plunged into the line of children's stories, having each a 
very prominent 'purpose,' — her earliest being The Claremont 
Tales. It may be that the shock of her first great sorrow, 
the death of Mr. Tucker, making her to realise intensely 
the shortness of life on earth, and the supreme weight of 
things unseen, had the effect of turning her mind with a 
new energy to the thought of doing good by means of 
her pen. It may be also that, now he was gone for whom 
and with whom she had written her plays, all zest in that 
direction was gone with him, and the gift of writing, like 
a river dammed up in one direction and forced to turn 
elsewhere, sought naturally a fresh outlet, — an outlet with 
which there should be no overpoweringly sad associations. 
Moreover, the home-circle was no longer what it had been. 
Two of the sisters, to whom she had read her plays, were 
gone ; and with the changed order of life came a new 
order of writing. 

Exactly when she began or finished The Claremont 
Tales is not known. With her usual reserve she at first 
said nothing about the completed MS. — beyond, at all 
events, reading the stories to the children. Probably she 
felt doubtful about her own venture ; and some little time 
seems to have passed before she showed it to her Mother. 



92 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Mrs. Tucker was much delighted with the attempt, said 
at once that it ought to be pubHshed, and insisted on 
action being taken. 

So, on November 19, 185 1, the MS. was sent to Messrs. 
W. and R. Chambers, with the accompanying letter : — 

' Sir, — It has for some time been my anxious desire to add my 
mite to the Treasury of useful literature, which you have opened to 
the young as well as the old. 

' The Tales which I now venture to offer to you for pubHcation 
were originally composed for young children under my own charge, 
and were listened to with an appearance of interest, which gives me 
hopes that they may meet with no unfavourable reception from others 
of the same tender years. 

' I ask for no earthly remuneration ; my position in life renders 
me independent of any exertions of my own ; I pray but for God's 
blessing upon my attempts to instruct His lambs in the things which 
concern their everlasting welfare ; and deeply gratified should I feel, 
were my little work to be classed among the numerous valuable 
publications which you have already given to the world. 

' The Tales might be printed separately, as each forms a complete 
story, though all are united by connecting links.' 

The date is given, but no name and no address ; and 
a letter more quaintly stiff and unbusiness-like can surely 
never have won a Publisher's smile. To return the MS. 
to herself, if disapproved of, was not possible ; and, as it 
happened. The Clareinont Tales did not belong to the class 
of publications undertaken by Messrs. Chambers. Very 
kindly, however, they passed it on to the house of Messrs. 
Gall and Inglis ; and by them the little book was brought 
out. One can imagine how eagerly Charlotte, while pre- 
serving her strict incognita, must have watched for the 
possible appearance of her Tales, and how delighted she 
would be to see the name advertised. When this occurred, 
she wrote again — 

'■May 24, 1853. 

'A. L. O. E. presents her compliments to Messrs. Gall and Inglis, 
and, admiring the elegant form in which they have presented The 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 93 

Claremont Tales to the public, is happy to offer to them for pub- 
lication the accompanying volume of poems, — asking no further 
remuneration than 20 copies of the work, when printed, for gratuitous 
distribution. A. L. O. E. proposes sending a few copies of her poems 
to the principal Reviews, as a means of extending their circulation. 

'A. L. O. E. would be glad to know whether Messrs. Gall and 
Inglis propose adopting her suggestion of printing some or all of 
The Clareinont Tales in a very cheap form, for distribution amongst 
poor children, Ragged Schools, etc. 

' Any communication will be received by the Authoress, if addressed 
to — "Miss Aloe ; care of Miss Lanzun ; S ; Middlesex." 

*" P.S. — Miss would much like to know whether The Claremont 

Tales were first placed in the hands of Messrs. Gall and Inglis by 
Messrs. Chambers, to whom she originally sent them ; and whether 
Messrs. Gall and Inglis have any professional connection with those 
Publishers, so distinguished in the field of literature. Should Messrs. 
Gall and Inglis not wish themselves to undertake the publication of 
a volume of poetry, they are at perfect liberty to submit the work 
to Messrs. Chambers. An early answer will oblige.' 

Three months later comes another letter, still further 
relaxing her secrecy, and still on the subject of the 
' volume of poems ' : — 

'■ August d, 1853. 

' Miss C. M. Tucker presents her compliments to Mr. Inglis, and 
begs to acknowledge the receipt this morning of his obliging com- 
munication to Miss A. L. O. E., which nom de guerre^ in compliance 
with his wish, and in reliance on his promise to preserve her 
incognita, she now exchanges for her own. 

'Miss C. M. Tucker is now at the seaside, and is therefore un- 
able personally to communicate with Mr. Inglis. She requests, 

however, that he will continue to direct any letters to S , to the 

care of Miss Lanzun. 

' Miss C. M. Tucker is much pleased to learn that her little work 
has been favourably received in America. She will be very happy 
to write such an addition to The Fortress, as may make it equal in 
length to its companion tales. 

*As Mr. Inglis' objection to publishing The White Shroud, etc., 
seems only to rest upon the shortness of the poems. Miss C. M. 
Tucker would have no objection to sending a larger book of her 
poetry, from which Mr. Inglis might select what he thought likely 



94 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

to please* the public. Miss C. M. Tucker has written an Epic on 
the eventful Life of St. Paul, and a variety of other pieces. Would 
Mr. Inglis wish them forwarded to Scotland, or to his present 
address in London ? Miss C. M. Tucker herself selected The 
White Shroud^ as she thought it one of those most likely to be 
popular, and perhaps most calculated to be useful. The name might 
attract readers, who would not glance at what appeared from its 
title to be exclusively religious. It would also be well adapted for 
illustration ; but that Miss C. M. Tucker leaves entirely to the taste 
and judgment of Messrs. Gall and Inglis, only suggesting that 
perhaps the commencement of winter might be a favourable time 
for such a work of Fancy to make its appearance, when it might 
take its place among the elegant little volumes designed for Christmas 
remembrances.' 

Others were disposed to take a different view as to 
the peculiar attractiveness of such a name as The White 
Shroud^ and when the volume was pubhshed it came out 
as Glimpses of the Unseen. 

A first interview between Charlotte and one of her 
PubHshers, recalled by some of the family, probably took 
place at about this date, or not very long afterwards. 
She is said to have been shy on seeing him, though not 
commonly supposed to suffer from shyness. In any case 
it is to be hoped that few Authors are, at first starting, 
so absolutely convinced of their own powers as not to 
go through certain twinges of bashfulness. 

One copy of The Claremont Tales was sent out to her 
brother, Mr. St. George Tucker, who was again in India, 
and had recently gone to Azimgurh. When the book 
arrived, he sat up reading it until past one o'clock in the 
morning ; no small compliment to a young Author. He 
then despatched a messenger on horseback to Benares, 
with the volume, — a ride of sixty miles, — that his brother, 
Mr. Henry Carre Tucker, might with all speed enjoy the 
same pleasure. Charlotte, hearing this through her Mother, 
was not a little gratified. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 95 

Thenceforth Charlotte went steadily in for Authorship. 
Volume after volume flowed from her fertile pen ; most 
of them for children ; many of them exceedingly amusing ; 
all of them definitely designed to teach something. One 
is rather disposed to fancy that in the writing of these 
books there may have been, in the beginning, something 
of a struggle. Charlotte was by nature ambitious ; and 
her literary gift was considerable ; and some of its poten- 
tialities appear to have been sacrificed to her ardent 
desire for usefulness. Whether she ever could or would 
have made her mark in any of the higher walks of 
literature is a question which could only have been 
decided by actual experiment ; but at least she must 
have felt it to lie within the bounds of possibility. Some 
people may think that her desire for usefulness was a 
little too ardent in its manifestation, since it led to so 
extremely didactic a mode of writing as that of many 
among her books. No one can deny that some of the 
said volumes do contain a large amount of direct ' preach- 
ing ' ; not merely of life-lessons, interwoven with the story 
in such wise that the one could not be read and the 
other missed, but rather of little sermons so alternating 
with the story that a child might read the latter and 
skip the former. Probably, most children, when reading 
to themselves, did follow this plan. Directness to a fault 
was, however, a leading characteristic of Charlotte all 
through life. The same tendency, — many would say in 
plain terms, the same mistake — is apparent in the later 
years of her Indian work, in the mode of her Zenana 
teaching. 

With respect to her writings, nothing is more impossible 
than to gauge correctly the amount of comparative good 
worked in any age, by different books or different styles 
of composition. That which makes the most stir, that 
which has the greatest apparent success, is by no means 



96 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

always the most wide in its influence. Some of us 
may be inclined to think that A. L. O. E. might have 
reached a larger circle, might have gained a more ex- 
tensive influence, if she had less anxiously pressed so 
very much didactic talk into her tales, — if too she had 
more studiously cultivated her own dramatic instincts, and 
had more closely studied human nature. All this we are 
quite at liberty to believe. For the question as to ' doing 
good ' through a book does not rest upon the amount of 
religious teaching which may be packed into a given 
number of printed pages, but rather upon the force with 
which a certain lesson is presented, with or without many 
words. There is no especial power in an abundance of 
words ; rather the reverse ! 

But the main gist of the matter as regarded Charlotte 
herself lies outside all these questions. It is found in 
the simple fact that she determinately stamped down 
her own personal ambitions, and bent her powers with a 
most single heart to this task of ' doing good ' ; that she 
resolutely yielded herself and her gifts to the Service of 
her Heavenly Father, desiring only that His Name might 
be honoured in what she undertook. Whether she always 
carried out this aim in the wisest manner is a secondary 
consideration. From the literary and artistic point of 
view, one may say that she undoubtedly did make some 
mistakes. From the standpoint of a simple desire to do 
good, one may question whether she could not have done 
yet more good by a different style of writing. But with 
regard to the purity and earnestness of her desire, with 
regard to the putting aside of personal ambitions, with 
regard to the single-heartedness of her aims, there can 
be no two opinions. And He who looks on the heart, HE 
who gauges our actions not by results but by the motives 
which prompt them, — He, we may well believe, honoured 
His servant for her faithful work in His Service. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 97 

Nor must we ignore the measure of marked success 
which she certainly had, if one may judge from the speed 
with which her books came out, and the demand which 
apparently existed for them. Even in her most didactic 
tales there are keen and witty touches, and droll descrip- 
tions. For ' teaching ' purposes her boys may sometimes 
converse together as boys never do converse ; but none the 
less those boys are real, and they recur in after years to 
the memory as only living people or vivid creations ever 
do recur. In some of her rather higher flights, such as 
Pride and his Prisoners, are to be found stirring scenes, 
drawn with dramatic power. 

One thing should be noted : the curiously allegorical or 
symbolical style of thought which was natural to her. 

It did not appear in the girlish dramatic efforts, — unless 
in the direction of a perpetual play upon words, — but in 
her published books it developed speedily. This was 
remarkable in her ; 7iot because of any peculiar result from 
it in England, but because of its very peculiar adaptation 
to Indian needs. One may almost think of her authorship 
in England as mainly a long preparation for her Indian 
toil ; the continuous practice in habits of imagery and 
allegory, by no means especially suited to our Western 
minds, gradually fitting her to deal with the Oriental mind, 
little as she yet dreamt of any such destination for herself. 
All these years, without knowing it, she was waiting for 
and was working upward to ' the Crown of her Life,' as it 
mfiy be termed ; those eighteen years in the Panjab. All 
these years she was being prepared and made ready, till 
she should be as a ' sharpened instrument ' in the Hand of 
her Master, fitted for the work which He would give her 
to do. 

Among the many volumes published during the first 
fifteen or twenty years of authorship were the following : — 
The Giant-Killer, The Roby Family, TJie Young Pilgrim, 
G 



98 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

History of a Needle, and Rambles of a Rat, before 1858 ; 
Flora, The Mine, Precepts in Practice, Idols in the Heart, 
and Whispering Unseen, before 1 860 ; Pride and his 
Prisoners, The Shepherd of Bethlehem, My Neighbour's 
Shoes, War and Peace, Light in the Robber's Cave, and The 
Silver Casket, before 1 864. A trio of volumes appeared in 
succession, the first of which she wrote at her Mother's 
suggestion, — Exiles in Babylon, Rescued from Egypt, and 
Triumph of Midian. Another trio, coming in due course, 
— Fairy Know-a-Bit, Parliament in the Playroom, and The 
Crown of Success, — were bright Httle books, containing a 
good deal of useful information. Besides these were 
published at intervals House Beautiful, Living fewels. Castle 
of Carlmont, Hebrew Heroes, Claudia, Cyril Ashley, The 
, Lady of Provence, The Wreath of Smoke, and very many 
others. 

One of the most strongly allegorical of her earlier works 
was The Giant-Killer ; and in that little book she no doubt 
made free use of her own experiences. 

It is easy to believe that she must have had many a 
hard battle with Giant Sloth, before she gained the habit 
of always rising at six o'clock in the morning, a habit 
persevered in through life. Again, one of her eager and 
impulsive temperament could not have been naturally free 
from a clinging to her own way, and from a certain 
vigorous self-seeking ; and many a bitter conflict must have 
been gone through, before friends could, with an all but 
unanimous voice, speak of hers as a peculiarly unselfish 
character. In the struggles of Fides to get out of the Pit 
of Selfishness, we may read between the lines of Charlotte's 
girlish battlings. 

Even more, in the fight with Giant Pride we seem to see 
her hardest tussle of all, and the mode in which victory 
came to her. Giant Pride's assumed name of ' High 
Spirit,' his hatred of Meanness, Gluttony, Cowardice, and 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 99 

Untruth, are all an echo of parts of herself The polishing 
of the darkened gold of her Will she had long known in 
the small unavoidable frictions of everyday life ; and the 
plunging of that Will into furnace-heat, and the straight- 
ening of its crookedness by means of heavy successive 
blows, she had begun to know in the death of her dear 
Father, and would soon know more fully through other 
sorrows coming after. But many more than three blows 
were needed for the shapening of Charlotte Tucker's Will. 
She may have dreamt when she wrote the book that three 
would be enough, and that the King's call to Fides might 
in her case be soon repeated. She little knew the long 
years of toil and patience which stretched far ahead. 

A tiny glimpse of the daily fighting, which she like all 
others had to go through, may be seen in the succeeding 
letter, written to her sister, Laura, a year or two before the 
death of old Mr. Tucker : — 

' I obeyed you in putting your note into the fire, after twice perusing 
it ; but it seemed a shame so to destroy what was so sweet. How 
little you and I have been with each other lately, yet I do not think 
that we love one another one particle the less, — I think that I can 
answer for myself at least. May God prosper your humble efforts, my 
sweet Laura. I enter into all your feelings. . . . 

* I do not like to overload dear Bella with advice. It appears almost 
presumptuous from a younger sister ; but I threw in my word now 
and then. But what am I ? . . . I fear that I have been peevish with 
to-day. I feel discontented with myself, and need your prayers.' 



CHAPTER VIII 

A.D. 1854-1857 
CRIMEA, AND THE INDIAN MUTINY 

In the year 1854 Mr. St. George Tucker again came 
home from India ; and in the autumn he took his Mother 
and sisters for three months to The Mote, an old country 
house about six miles north of Tonbridge, hoping that the 
change would do good to Mrs. Tucker's health and spirits. 
Those were the terrible days of the Crimean War ; and in 
that autumn the battles of Balaclava and Inkerman were 
fought. Several letters of interest belong to about this 
period. 

TO MISS BELLA F. TUCKER. 1 853. 

' I have found out a much better hero for you than your friend Lord 
Marmion, — who, by-the-bye, had he Hved in these days, would have 
run a great chance of being transported for fourteen years, or 
imprisoned for one with hard labour, for forgery. Mere courage does 
not make a hero. . . . When I was about as old as you are now, I 
had — besides Montrose, for whom I have a great regard still — a great 
hero, a pirate ! About as respectable a man perhaps as Lord 
Marmion, and I was so fond of him, that I remember jumping out of 
bed one night, when one of my sisters laughed at him. 

' But I have grown older, dear, and have seen so many bubbles 
break in my time that I am more on my guard. I look for something 
more solid now. If you are allowed to read Uncle TottHs Cabin ^ or 
any part of it, pause when you have done, and compare the old negro 
with Lord Marmion. You laugh at the idea. What ! — "the falcon 
crest and morion," — " the scar on his dark brow " — will not all this 
100 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER loi 

throw the poor ignorant thick-lipped hero quite into the shade ? Yes, 
— if a sparkling bubble is more glorious than a diamond shut up in a 
black case. Time touches the bubble, and it breaks, — I have given 
up my pirate-hero, — but the diamond — never mind the black case ! 
" Uncle Tom " is a hero, and one worthy of the name.' 

TO MRS HAMILTON— (LAURA). 

'The Mote, Sept. i, 1854. 

* Your and your dear husband's nice sunshiny notes reached me this 
morning. ... I believe that you are wise not to come here, for the 
roads are very bad, and the cHmate not very bracing. Sweet Mother 
says that it suits her very well, and I thrive on it like anything, but 
not every one might be the better for "water, water every where." We 
have four pieces of water close by us, besides the moat just under our 
windows. The Mote nestles so curiously in a hollow of the hill, that 
when you have walked a few hundred yards from it, and naturally 
turn round to look at the noble mansion which you have left, — it is 
actually non iiiventus. You would not know that you were near the 
Mote at all. "What has become of our great house?" say you. It 
has vanished like Aladdin's fairy palace. 

' I feel sure that this is the identical old place that Mrs. D'Oyly 
took us to see, where they said that some of the rooms had not 
been opened for one hundred years. This suits me exactly. As the 
boys say, " I am in clover." Damp hurts me no more than if I were 
a water-wagtail ; but the same might not be the case with you. . . . 

' What a good thing it has been for your little darling being at so 
healthy a place during the trying time of teething. I shall expect to 
see her still more improved, when I have the pleasure of kissing her 
sweet lips again. How diverting it will be to watch her when she first 
runs alone ! . . . 

' Such nice letters from India ! Dear Henry is having my Tales 
translated into Hindustani, for the poor natives. Oh, pray, my 
Laura, that a blessing may go with them. Dear Robin preaches to 
upwards of a hundred blind, and bears the hot weather wonderfully 
well.' 

TO THE SAME. 

'The Mote, Sept. 12, 1854. 

' Many thanks for your welcome letter, your good news, and your 
kind invitation. I should not wonder if the last were very thankfully 



I02 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

accepted some time next month ; for it is quite uncertain whether the 

L s will let us remain here beyond the six weeks, and almost 

quite certain that No, 3 will not be ready for us then, in which case 
we had better scatter. The boys indeed talk of standing a siege here, 
rather than give the place up ; but you see we are afraid of treachery 

in the camp, having so many of the L- 's servants. Then we might 

have difficulty about provisions, for we should all grow desperately 
thin upon the fish which Charlie catches. Besides which, the moat 
might be waded, although it is a doubtful point whether the wader 
could get on through the weeds and mud. I think, all things con- 
sidered, that we had better not stand a siege. 

' My heart can quite re-echo the cheerful tone of your note, love. 
I do indeed feel that we are loaded with blessings. I enjoy this place 
exceedingly, it is so pretty ; just the place to " moon " about in. 
Don't you remember Mrs. D'Oyly taking us to see it, when we drove 
here in two carriages, and you were with the sprightly, and I with the 
sedate party ? I feel sure that this was the identical old house. My 
room ought to be haunted, only it is not. It is such a pity that you 
have not the fairy carpet to come here without fatigue. But, as it is, 
you serve as a magnet, to help to draw me back to ]Middlesex without 
regret. 

' Kind love to dear Mr. Hamilton, and twenty kisses to the Princess 
of babies. I can well imagine the pleasure that she is to you — a 
large lump of sugar in your cup I ' 

TO MISS BELLA F. TUCKER. 

'Dec. 12, 1854. 

' We went to St. James' Park to-day, to see Her Majesty on her 
way to open Parliament. I had an excellent view of our poor dear 
Queen ; and the sight of her mournful subdued countenance, as she 
bowed graciously to her people, but without the shadow of a smile, 
quite touched my heart. This war weighs very heavily upon her ; 
and I am anxious to know whether she was able to get through her 
speech without breaking down altogether. She looked to-day as 
though it would have taken less to make her weep than laugh. 

' How England is exerting herself to send comforts to her brave 
sons in the Crimea ! A lady was here to-day who, having seen that 
books were thought desirable presents to the Army, made up a box 
of them, which was to go to a Mr. S. who had offered to receive them. 
But when her intended gift was known, — " O pray do not send any 
more books ! " was the poor receiver's cry. " We have seventy 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 103 

thousand volumes ! " and they did not know how such a tremendous 
Hbrary was to be forwarded. In the lint department, parcels came 
in at the rate of two hundred a day ! Good-bye.' 

TO THE SAME. 

'Jan. 13, 185 5- 
' It is singular in how many ways last year I seemed to be taught 
a lesson of patience. I was disappointed over and over and over 
again. In one matter in which I was greatly interested, I was so at 
least five times ; but before the close of the year I had cause to say 
with much pleasure, — " I am glad that I was disappointed." Another 
time I had a very heavy heart from a different source of disappoint- 
ment ; and some months later I was grieved, even, I am half 
ashamed to say, to tears ; and yet before December was out I was 
actually glad of both these disappointments, as well as the five others ; 
and a good appeared to spring from the evil. Now, if I am inclined 
to be impatient, — and very impatient I am by nature, — I try to 
remember my experience, and really to get the valuable lesson by 
heart. I think it a good plan at the end of a year to review the 
whole, to try and find out what especial lesson has been set one to 
learn in it. I found it to be praise one year ; last ytdiX patie?tce. I 
know not what it will be this year. I hope that — but no, I will not 
write what I intended. Whatever is, is best. We have not to choose 
our tasks, but to learn them.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'June 15, 1855. 

' What news have I to give you ? We have had a nice note from 
dear Henry to-day, saying nothing about health, except that Robin is 
well. St. G. and I have just come from a loiter at the Botanical 
Gardens, which showed us that we need be under no great concern, 
were hemp and flax exterminated from the vegetable world, and 
silkworms to leave off being spinsters, as we could dress cheaply and 
well on plantain fibre, have capital paper and excellent ropes, etc' 

In the August of 1855 she had the pleasure of going 
with her brother, Mr. St. George Tucker, to the great 
French Exhibition at Paris. This was the celebrated 
occasion of the Queen's visit to Napoleon, after the close 
of the Crimean War ; and Paris was thronged. So 



I04 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

full was the place that rooms in Paris itself were not to be 
had, and they went to an hotel in Versailles, occupying 
apartments which had once been occupied by Louis 
Napoleon. Charlotte's warlike enthusiasm showed itself 
in the fact that she was willing to pay twenty-five 
francs apiece for seats at the Champs de Mars, where they 
might witness the review of 45,000 French troops. When 
Her Majesty had quitted Paris, it became possible to 
obtain rooms at the Hotel Bristol. 

From Versailles she wrote to Mrs. Hamilton, on the 
2 1st of August : — 

' Dearest Wifey,^ — You wished for a letter from France, so here 
is one ; but if you expect a description of what I have seen, I really 
cannot undertake to give you even a precis. Paris surpasses my 
expectations. All in its gala dress as it is now, swarming with 
people, crowded with soldiers, gay with fluttering flags and triumphal 
arches, — it is really a sight in itself. The grand Exposition of pictures 
is splendid ; it is only too large. I was amused at it by a lady coming 
up to me, and politely requesting me to inform her who Ophelia was. 
An old French lady, looking at a picture of the burial of Harold, 
and, I suppose, feeling that the subject might be painful to me 
as a Saxon, politely assured me of her regret at that monarch's 
death ! " Let bygones be bygones," say I. 

' Most of the French foot-soldiers are very little fellows, compared 
to some of our troops ; but amongst the Cavalry are very fine tall 
men. The Zouaves are very heathenish-looking warriors. They 
dress something like Turks, with all about their throats so perfectly 
bare that they quite invite you to cut their heads off. 

* St. G. and I so enjoyed this exquisite evening in the stately 
gardens ! A fine military band was performing, the people were 
happily listening, little children skipping about, the glorious sunset 
tints illuminating a palace fit for the " grand Monarch." 

' We have seen our Sovereign Lady three times, which was being in 
great luck. I am rather tired of writing, so will only add kindest love, 
and beg you to believe me your ever attached, C. M. Tucker. 

^ P.S. — I told a fat funny little French baba to-day that I had a 
niece younger than herself, and asked her if she would not like to see 
her. The answer was unsatisfactory.' 

1 A pet name for her sister. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER T05 

The Crimean War was ended ; and two years later came 
the outbreak of the Indian Mutiny, with its awful carnage, 
its heaps of slain, its tortured women and children, its 
heroic determination, its dauntless courage. Then was 
seen a Continent, lost apparently in one day, won back to 
the British Crown by mere handfuls of indomitable men 
facing armed myriads. Such a tale had never been told 
before. 

If Charlotte's patriotism had been stirred by the Crimean 
struggle, this came nearer to her yet ! She had five 
brothers, all in India, all more or less in daily peril. Mr. 
Henry Carre Tucker was Commissioner at Benares ; Mr. 
St. George Tucker was at Mirzapore ; Mr. William Tucker 
was in a less acutely unsafe position ; Mr. Charlton 
Tucker, after seeing his Colonel shot down, was for weeks 
in hiding. All these escaped. But her early companion, 
Robert, — the father of her ' Robins,' — was among the 
slain ; and the three children, already long half-orphaned, 
became now wholly orphaned. 

Robert Tucker's remarkable powers, and his successes 
at Haileybury, have been earlier spoken about. Natur- 
ally of a serious and stern disposition, though not without 
lighter traits, he had been a good deal saddened by 
troubles, which no doubt resulted in the more complete 
dedication of himself and all that he possessed to the 
Service of his Divine Master. A short sketch of his life, 
written by his sister Charlotte, and published by the 
S.P.C.K., tells of his work at Futteypore, where for many 
years he was Judge. 

About four years before the Mutiny he had written 
home about the ' extraordinary success ' which was at- 
tending his Christian school, established and kept going 
by himself On Sundays he was in the habit of regularly 
addressing a collected crowd of Natives ; literally ' the 
poor, the maimed, the halt, the blind ' ; and he did not 



io6 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

teach them only, but also ministered liberally to their 
bodily needs. 

In her little sketch Charlotte says of him, — 'Careless of 
his own comfort, restricting his personal expenses to a very 
narrow compass, he gave to the Missionary cause at the 
rate of forty pounds monthly, and one year even more ' ; 
adding that with ' shrinking from ostentation ' he had 
never given his name on these occasions. And again — 
' It was his deep and abiding sense of the debt which he 
owed to his Saviour, which made the Judge devote not 
only his substance but his heart and his soul to the Lord. 
How deep was the gratitude which he expressed in these 
words — " If every hair upon my head were a life, it would 
be too little to sacrifice to the Lord Jesus Christ ! " ' 

A clue to many things in Charlotte's own later life may 
be perhaps found here. There can be no doubt that the 
story of her brother's self-denying life and tragical death 
made a profound impression upon her mind. His example, 
long after, was closely copied by this sister, when she too 
' restricted her personal expenses to a very narrow com- 
pass,' precisely as he had done, and with the same object, 
that she might have the more to give away. Also his 
energy in teaching was reflected by her own burning 
desire, in old age, to speak on all occasions to the Natives 
of their deepest needs, and never to miss an opportunity 
of trying to lead some poor Hindu or Muhammadan to 
Christ, always with the vivid sense upon her, when she 
met man or woman, that the call to herself might come 
before they could meet again, and so a second opportunity 
might never recur. Another eighteen years had, however, 
yet to elapse before she would go out to India, to follow in 
his steps, and to render to Hindustan a loving return for 
this ' year of horrors.' 

In June 1857, like a thunderclap, not indeed utterly 
unforeseen but practically unexpected by the majority of 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 107 

Englishmen, came the fearful outbreak ; and for a while it 
did really almost seem that the British Raj in India was 
at an end. But those who thought so were soon to be 
undeceived. 

When first the storm broke, Robert Tucker did not 
expect to be himself one of its earlier victims. His brother, 
Mr. St. George Tucker, says, — ' Robert was in high spirits 
when the Mutiny broke out. He wrote to me that he had 
seen a magnificent horse, and that if he could buy him, he 
could ride from Futteypore to Delhi, and soon finish the 
war. Robert was the Judge, and Sherer was the Magis- 
trate. Sherer decided that all the Europeans must leave 
Futteypore and fly to Banda. Robert refused to leave 
Futteypore, and said that his duty required him to protect 
the Natives. The rest of the Europeans went off to Banda.' 

Many Native Christians fled also, — among others a 
Native Catechist, Gopi Nath. He was taken by Muham- 
madans, imprisoned and cruelly treated ; and he it was 
whose sinking courage was revived by the almost dying 
words of the English boy-officer, Arthur Cheek, the 
' Martyr of Allahabad.' 

But with the spirit of a soldier, Robert Tucker, the 
intrepid Judge of Futteypore, remained at his post, the 
only European among countless Natives, bent still on doing 
his duty. 

The night preceding the tenth of June he passed at his 
Cutcherry or Office ; and in the early morning news was 
brought that his own house had been set on fire. He then 
tried to collect some of the landholders, to protect the 
Natives in the town, and their houses ; but not all his 
efforts could prevent the burning of the latter. His next 
step was to ride off to the Jail, in the hope of securing the 
prisoners ; but he was too late, the prisoners having been 
already set at liberty. Mr. Tucker fearlessly reprimanded 
the Jail-Guard ; whereupon the Guard, belonging to a bad 



io8 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Cawnpore regiment, opened fire. Though every shot 
missed, Mr. Tucker must then have seen that all was up. 
Everything was in confusion ; the Native officers would 
not support him ; and he stood absolutely alone. 

He rode to the Cutcherry, no man daring to intercept 
him, and took up his position on the top ; and for hours 
he remained, fearless and calm, awaiting his death. The 
day was intensely hot, causing him to suffer terribly from 
thirst ; and one of his horsekeepers at length brought him 
some milk, — a deed of mercy, which shows that one man 
at least was not devoid of gratitude. 

'There he remained during that fearful day,' wrote 
Charlotte Tucker. ' There, as evening was closing in, he 
made his last lion-like stand, when the fanatic Musselmans, 
bearing a green flag, the emblem of their faith, came in a 
fierce crowd to attack him.' How many he shot as they 
advanced is not certain ; some say twenty, or even thirty ; 
but at length one of his assailants shot him in the head, 
and the moment he fell, they took courage to rush up the 
stairs and to finish their work. 

For Robert Tucker himself, cut off though he was in the 
very prime of life, there could be no regrets, except on the 
score of all that he might have done, had he lived. No 
man could be more ready than he was to go. But the blow 
fell heavily on those who loved him ; and though for nine 
years he had not seen his children, whereby the sorrow to 
them was softened, yet the loss to their future could not but 
be great. 

' So he fell,' wrote one who had escaped ; ' and in his fall 
the constant and fervent prayer of his latter days was 
answered, for he fell at the post of duty. All who knew 
him well mourn in him the loss of a true and noble friend, 
generous even to prodigality, highly talented, a thorough 
gentleman, and an upright judge.' 

Mention of this event was made at the time in the 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 109 

Journal Letter of Viscountess Canning/ worth quoting in 
addition to the above. 

' . . . The story of Futteypore is a strange one. The whole country 
round was gone, and there was a large Sepoy guard in the treasury, 
and every reason to beHeve they would rise, so all the Europeans 
took to boats, and went away to safe stations down the river, and I 
think to Banda. Only Mr. Tucker, the magistrate, would not stir, 
and remained with fifty Sepoys and the treasury. He was son to the 
late Director, Sir George Tucker,^ and was one of the four brothers 
whose names we hear constantly, and he was as brave as a lion. 
He had a deputy-magistrate — a Mohammedan — in a high position, 
treated as a gentleman, and in as high a place as a native could 
occupy, next to himself To this man had been given a body of 
mounted police, and he undertook to keep the country clear between 
the great trunk road and the river for some distance. He did it 
admirably, and took delight in it, and sent in detailed reports up to 
the last. But when he heard of some more places being gone, he 
suddenly returned to the treasury, to which his position gave him 
access, dismissed the fifty Sepoys with a thousand rupees apiece, and 
then attacked Mr. Tucker with all his police force. Mr. Tucker was 
killed, after defending himself till he had killed with his own hand, 
some say sixteen, some twenty men. I suppose he had a whole 
battery of revolvers, and so kept his assailants at bay.' 

Though Robert was gone, other brothers of Charlotte 
Tucker were still in hourly danger ; and the pressure of 
anxiety went on for months, as shown by letters of the 
time. 

TO MISS B. F. TUCKER. 

^ Sept. 9, 1857. 

' I need not say how I long for tidings from India. Most especially 
do I desire news of Havelock's precious little army. Upon its 
success, humanly speaking, may hang the safety of all our beloved 
ones in India.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'■Sept. 19, 1857. 
' We are longing for our letters, but I do not think we shall get 
them till Tuesday. Dearest Mother tries not to think more of India 

^ Two Noble Lives, vol. ii. p. 220. 

2 Mr. Tucker. He was never knighted. 



no THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

than she can help, and has, I am glad to say, given up reading the 
papers, so we only give her the good part of the news verbally. I 
could not endure to be kept in the dark myself. I go every day to 
fetch the papers. I half live on them, and would far rather go without 
a meal than not see them. . . . We heard from poor dear Mrs. Thorn- 
hill to-day. She hopes that Henry and his wife are in Lucknow. Such 
a hope is not worth much, one would think.' 

TO MISS B. F. TUCKER. 

'Sept. 21, 1857. 

' God be with our brave and beloved ones ! My heart feels very 
low — worse than before the letters arrived. We hide from dear Grand- 
mamma that Mirzapore is threatened. She only knows that the 

troops are there ; not why they have been sent. N W has sent 

his dear wife and children to Calcutta. He feels so desolate without 
them, but takes the separation as a lesson from his Merciful Father to 
set his affections more on things above. . . . Does not your heart 
sicken for Lucknow ? ' 

All through England hearts were 'sickening for Lucknow,' 
at this time. But the Cawnpore-like catastrophe, dreaded 
for Lucknow, did not come. The rescuing party mercifully 
arrived in time. As months went by, the Mutiny was 
stamped out from end to end of India ; and no second 
Tucker was added to the roll of England's martyrs there. 

Just before the outbreak Mr. Henry Carre Tucker seems 
to have requested that some copies of his sister's books 
might be sent out to him for distribution : and an 
interesting letter was written by her on the subject to 
Messrs. Gall and Inglis. 

'July 17, 1857. • 

'Sir, — I am glad to hear that the box is likely soon to be on its way 
to my dear brother. We have been in great anxiety on account of 
him and his family, as Benares, the station of which he is the head, 
with a population of 180,000, is one of the most wicked places in 
India, a " holy city," a stronghold of fanaticism. My brother has taken 
a bolder part in upholding Missions, and spreading religious literature, 
than almost any one else in the country ; therefore, if Benares had 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER iii 

followed the example of Delhi, the terrible event might have been 
attributed to his excess oT zeal. 

' The Almighty, to whom my brother attributes the glory, has 
hitherto watched over Benares in so marked a manner, that it 
remained quiet in the midst of disturbances ; and my young niece has 
bravely ridden through it by her father's side, giving confidence to 
the timid by her fearlessness. . . . But a few lines in the telegraph, 
read aloud in Parliament, informs us that the troops in Benares had 
risen at last, and been driven out of the city with great loss. I 
await the next mail with intense anxiety. I have five brothers in 
India.' 

It is interesting to know that Mr. Henry Carre Tucker 
devoted himself a year later to the task of helping 
forward in every possible way Missionary work in India, 
as a species of ' Christian revenge ' for the death of Robert 
and the sufferings of his countrymen. He took a leading 
part in starting the ' Christian Literature Society for India,' 
and was for a while himself its Honorary Secretary. 



CHAPTER IX 

A.D. 1857-1865 

life's early afternoon 

One-half of the life of Charlotte Tucker was now over ; a 
quiet and uneventful life thus far. If we like, we may 
mentally divide her story into four quarters, each about 
eighteen years in length, corresponding to Early Morning, 
Noontide, Afternoon, and Evening. The first eighteen 
years of her Early Morning had been, perhaps, as bright 
and cloudless as the existence of any girl could well be. 
In the succeeding Noontide hours she had known still 
much of brightness, though they included her first great 
sorrow, and ended with her second. Also, in the course of 
that Noontide she had entered upon her career of author- 
ship, with all its hopes and aims, its hard work and its 
delights. Probably none who have not experienced it for 
themselves can quite understand the fascinations of 
authorship. 

Now she had passed her Noontide, and was entering on 
the hours of early Afternoon. Eighteen years of that 
Afternoon still lay between the dark days of the Indian 
Mutiny and her own going out to India, for the Evening 
of her Life, — the fourth and last eighteen years, which were 
to be the fullest and the busiest of all her busy days. 

We have first to do with the earlier portion of the Third 

Period ; a period including much work, many interests, and 

some deep griefs. Between 1857 and 1866, however, lay a 
112 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 113 

quiet stretch of everyday life, distinguished by no rocks or 
rapids. The river flowed on peacefully for a while. 

Life at No. 3 continued much as it had been in years 
past Many friends were in and out, and were always 
cordially welcomed. Mrs. Tucker, since her husband's 
death, had made one difference, in that she no longer gave 
dinner-parties ; but luncheons were in full swing, to any 
extent ; and Charlotte's powers of entertaining were still in 
abundant requisition. 

No better place can well be found than this for part 
of a letter to A. L. O. E.'s nephew, — the Rev. W. F. T. 
Hamilton, son of her favourite sister, — from Sir Francis 
Outram, son of General Sir James Outram, of celebrated 
memory. 

''June 25, 1894. 

' My recollections of No. 3 Portland Place and of its typically kind 
inmates carry me back just half a century. But they are very clear, 
though, I regret to add, only of a general and intangible character. 

' Mr. Tucker I recall with grave respect, unmingled with awe, as 
evidently one of the wisest and most influential of my Parents' proved 
friends. Mrs. Tucker retains an honoured place in memories of these 
and later days as the kindest and most liberal of " old aunts," — so she 
desired me to designate her, and at once adopted me into her very 
large circle of favoured nephews and nieces, — the inexhaustible 
source of varied goodnesses, especially such as were of the most 
approved edible nature. 

' Their sons I cannot recall, except as the genial and trusty friends 
of later life. But the five daughters of the house none of us who en- 
joyed their unselfish kindness at all stages of our youth can ever forget. 

' Of the two who ere long became successively " Miss Tucker," 
however, you would alone wish me to speak. They cannot be dis- 
sociated in the memory of the generations of young people, whose 
privilege it was to be entertained and gratified by their unwearied 
attention throughout many a long holiday afternoon and evening, 
while stuffed by Mrs. Tucker ad libitum with all the best things of the 
season. 

' As we grew older, we not only more fully understood the excep- 
tional boundlessness of old-fashioned hospitality and kindness which 
H 



114 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

that house and household exempHfied thoroughly, but we came to 
understand somewhat of the heart-source whence issued that truest 
manifestation, of "everyday religion," which evidences itself in an 
absolutely unselfish consecration, — consistent, unreserved, and essen- 
tially practical, — for everyday wear, and not only under " stimulating 
environments." Such was the life's lesson which our association with 
these two now ageing sisters suggested to us. 

' Miss Charlotte had, as you know, much of the Romantic in her 
composition. ... In person she was always slight, and somewhat 
fragile-looking. Indeed, both she and Miss Fanny gave one the 
impression of being too incessantly though quietly busy about 
everything that promoted the happiness of other people, to ever 
become stout, or to cultivate dress and appearances, beyond what 
was consistent with the aims and duties and requirements of a fully 
occupied home-life. 

' Mrs. Tucker could not quite keep pace with the new-fashioned 
unconventionalities of " young-lady work " in London ; and one 
of the object-sermons, which most impressed me in my College 
days, was the beautiful self-restraint which these two sisters — no 
longer young — imposed upon themselves, in deference to their aged 
Mother's wishes, in regard to that outside work which inclination, or 
one might say conviction, as well as opportunity and qualifications, 
impelled them to participate in. 

' Still the unbounded hospitality of the " open house " in Portland 
Place went on ; and still they were content to devote their time, 
talents, and energies to successive generations of juveniles and elder 
guests, without a murmur.' 



One can well believe that the self-restraint had to be 
severe in Charlotte's case, with her abounding energies, 
and her eager desires for usefulness. But she patiently 
abided her time ; and she did not wait in vain. These 
were years of quiet preparation. 

In appearance at this time Charlotte was, as ever, tall 
and thin, — decidedly tall, her height being five feet six 
inches, or two inches over her Mother's height, and only 
one inch short of her Father's. She had still as of old 
a peculiarly elastic and springy mode of walking ; and 
while possessing no pretensions to actual good looks, 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 115 

there was much charm of manner, together with great 
animation. Still, as ever, she threw herself energetically 
into the task of entertaining others, no matter whether 
those ' others ' were young or old, attractive or uninterest- 
ing. This at present was a main duty of her life, and 
she never neglected or slurred it. Still, as ever, she was 
guided and restrained by her Mother's wishes, yielding 
her own desires when the two wills, or the two judgments, 
happened to lie in opposite directions. 

Although not really fond of work, Charlotte was a 
beautiful knitter. She would make most elaborate anti- 
macassars, of delicate lace-like patterns, invented by her 
own busy brain ; and while working thus she was able 
to read Shakespeare aloud. Her Father had loved Shake- 
speare, and Charlotte had early caught the infection of this 
love, never afterwards to lose it. 

Visiting in the Marylebone Workhouse went on 
steadily ; she and Fanny usually going together, until 
Fanny's health began to fail, which was probably not 
until after 1864. 

Fanny was par excellence the gentle sister ; very sweet, 
very unselfish ; always the one who would silently take 
the most uncomfortable chair in the room ; always the 
one to put others forward, yet in so quiet and unobtrusive 
a fashion that the fact was often not remarked until 
afterwards. Of Charlotte it has been said by one who 
knew her intimately, — ' I wonder whether before the 
year 1850 any one has described her as "gentle."' The 
gentleness, which was with Fanny a natural characteristic, 
had to be a slow after-growth with the more vehement 
and resolute younger sister. Many a sharp blow upon the 
golden staff of her Will was needful for this result. 

As an instance of Fanny's peculiar gentleness, it is told 
that one Sunday, when she saw a man trying to sell 
things, she went up and remonstrated with him, speaking 



ii6 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

very seriously, but in so mild and courteous a manner, 
so entirely as she would have spoken to one who was 
socially on her own level, that he was utterly unable to 
take offence. She was also very generous, giving liberally 
to the poor out of her limited dress-allowance, in earlier 
girlish days. This same generosity was a marked feature 
in the character of Charlotte ; perhaps especially in later 
years. 

Fanny was of middle height, and thin, with dark eyes ; 
very neat and orderly in her ways, wherein she was the 
opposite of Charlotte, who was famed for untidiness in 
her arrangements. Charlotte was, however, methodical 
in plans of action, and in literary work ; and later in life 
she seems to have struggled hard after habits of greater 
tidiness, as a matter of principle. But in middle life she 
could still speak of her drawers as — at least sometimes — 
supplying a succession of ' surprises.' 

Her ' little Robins ' were now growing up, an ever- 
increasing care and interest to her loving heart ; and the 
devotion which she felt for Letitia was of a most intense 
nature. The two boys were of course much away at 
school ; but Letitia was always with her, — until the year 
1865, when it was decided that she should go out to her 
uncle, Mr. St. George Tucker, in India. Moreover, many 
other little nieces and nephews had a warm place in the 
life of ' Aunt Char,' none more so than the children of her 
especial sister-friend, one of whom was her own god- 
child. 

Side by side with innumerable home-duties and home- 
pleasures went on the continual writing of little books for 
children ; one or two at least appearing every year. The 
amount of work in one such volume is not heavy ; but 
A. L. O. E.'s other calls were many. And she was not 
writing for a livelihood, or even for the increased comforts, 
whether of herself or of others dependent upon her ; 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 117 

therefore it could not be placed in the front rank of 
home-duties. The Tuckers were sufficiently well off; 
and Charlotte is believed to have devoted most or all of 
the proceeds of her pen to charitable purposes. 

To secure a certain amount of leisure for work, she 
accustomed herself to habits of early rising. Her Mother 
had always strongly objected to late hours, making the 
rule for her girls, — ' If you can, always hear eleven o'clock 
strike in bed.' Charlotte is said to have made her a 
definite promise never to write books late at night ; and 
through life this promise was most scrupulously adhered 
to. 

Since she was debarred from late hours, and since in 
those days she could never be sure of her time through 
the day, early morning was all that remained to her. 
Punctually, therefore, at six o'clock she got up, — like 
her hero. Fides, conquering Giant Sloth, — and thus made 
sure of at least an hour's writing before breakfast. In 
winter months, when others had fires at night in their 
bedrooms, Charlotte denied herself the luxury, that she 
might have it in the morning instead for her work. The 
fire was laid over-night, and she lighted it herself when 
she arose ; long before the maid came to call her. 

Later in the day she wrote if she could and when she 
could. No doubt also she found many an opportunity 
for thinking over her stories, and planning what should 
come next. She usually had the tale clear in her mind 
before putting pen to paper ; so that no time was lost 
when an hour for actual work could be secured. 

A sitting-room behind the dining-room of No. 3, called 
' the parlour,' was by common consent known as her 
room. Here she would sit and compose her books ; but 
she made of it no hermitage. Here she would be invaded 
by nieces, nephews, children, anybody who wanted a 
word with ' Aunt Char.' And she was ready always for 



ii8 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

such interruptions. Writing was with her, as we have 
seen, not the main business of life, but merely an adjunct, 
— an additional means of usefulness. Since she had 
secured the one early uninterrupted hour, other hours 
might take their chance, and anybody's business might 
come before her own business. With all these breaks, 
and in spite of them, she yet managed in the course of 
years to accomplish a long list of children's books. 

One of the said nieces. Miss Annie Tucker, writes 
respecting certain visits that she paid to her grandmother, 
Mrs. Tucker, at Portland Place : — 

' In each of these visits it was always my beloved Aunt Charlotte 
who entertained me, — if I may use the word, — though I was a mere 
child ; and she did it just as if I were a grown-up person. I could 
never see that she took less pains to interest me than she did to 
please the many grown-up people who called. She usually enter- 
tained us in her room behind the dining-room, so that my grand- 
mother should not be wearied too much. 

' How often have I gone in and out of her room, with a freedom 
which now almost surprises me ! but she never seemed interrupted 
by my entrance. I have seen her put down her pen, though she was 
evidently preparing MS. for the press, and attend to any little thing I 
wanted to say, without one exclamation of vexation or annoyance, or 
a resigned-resignation look, that some people put on on such 
occasions, at her literary work being put a stop to. And yet I am 
sure that was not because she did not mind being interrupted.' 

It is not for a moment to be implied that all hard toilers 
in life are bound to follow precisely here the example of 
A. L. O. E. Circumstances differ in different cases. Often 
the work itself is of supreme importance ; the interruptions 
are unnecessary and undeserving of attention. If every- 
body worked as Charlotte Tucker worked at that particular 
period, the amount accomplished would in some cases be 
very small, and in other cases, where undivided attention 
is essential, the result would be absolute failure. In 
her case the literary work was of a simple description, 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER iig 

and the home-calls appeared to be distinctly first in 
importance. But the spirit which she showed was well 
worthy of imitation. Many, whose favourite occupations 
are, to say the least, no whit more pressing than were her 
books, are exceedingly tenacious of their time, and 
exceedingly impatient of interruptions ; and with too 
many the home-calls come second to all personal interests. 
It was far otherwise with Charlotte Tucker. Whatever 
had to be done, she was ready to do it, — not one iota 
more ready to write her books, or to visit in the Work- 
house, than to teach the ' Robins,' to amuse visitors, old or 
young, to entertain guests at dinner or luncheon, to take 
her part in a family ' glee,' to join in merry games, to 
conduct friends on sightseeing expeditions. No matter 
what it might be, she did it willingly, throwing her whole 
energy into the matter in hand, always at everybody's 
service, never allowing herself to appear worried or bored. 

Despite her somewhat fragile appearance, and an 
appetite commonly small, there must have been a mar- 
vellous amount of underlying strength, — of the ' wiriness ' 
which often belongs to delicate-looking people. If tired, 
she seldom confessed the fact, and never made a fuss 
about it. Her extraordinary vitality and mental vigour 
carried her through what would have entirely laid by 
many another in her place. 

The following extracts are from letters ranging between 
1 86 1 and the beginning of 1866 : — 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'Nov. 6, 1 86 1. 

' Will you kindly tell my Letitia that I have put up her paint-box, 
to be sent to Somerset House, as I dare say that your dear husband 
will kindly take charge of the little parcel. . . . 

' The weather here has not been very choice. We had candles at 
luncheon yesterday. We make ourselves very happy, however, by 
vigorous reading. In the evening we discourse with Queen Elizabeth, 



I20 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Leicester, Paul Buys, and Olden Barneveldt, etc. ; in the morning we 
go out hunting with M. Chaillu, plunging amongst hippopotami and 
crocodiles, demolishing big black serpents, or perhaps capturing a 
baby-gorilla, more troublesome than dear Edgy himself. 

' We are all just now in a state of indignation about your pork ! 
Don't suppose that it is any fault in the pork ; on the contrary, it is 
acknowledged to be the most "refined" pork ever known; and 
Mother says that if she shut her eyes, she would not know that she 
was not eating chicken ! ! We had a beautiful roast of it one day 
at luncheon ; and Mother cut off a choice bit, to be reserved for 
our table, cold, while the servants were indulged with the rest of 
that joint. To-day Mother asked for our reserved bit. Would you 
believe it ? — those dreadfully greedy servants had eaten our bit as 
well as their own, though they had legs of mutton on Friday and 
Saturday, and a 22 lb. joint of roastbeef on Sunday ! Do you marvel 
at our indignation ? Mother means to call some one to account. She 
puts all the pathos of the question upon me. Miss Charlotte to be 
disappointed of her reserved bit of pork ! I can hardly keep my 
countenance, but of course must not disclaim my interest in the 
question. These greedy servants must be kept in order. It is not 
for nothing that we read of valiant encounters with alligators and 
hippopotami.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''Dec. 3, 1862. 

^ Dearest Laura, — We at last opened our piano, and your song 
has been thoroughly examined. The result is that some parts are much 
liked. Clara was so much pleased with the verse about the Rose, 
that after singing it over for Mother's benefit she sang it three times 
over for her own. The words are not worthy of the music ; it ought 
to be sacred ; and I intend to copy it out in my own little music- 
book as a hymn, so that its interest will not die away with that of the 
bridal.^ The part next best liked is the Shamrock verse ; and if I 
might venture a suggestion, I think that the whole of the " We hail 
thee" might be set to it ; only the "glittering" accompaniment must 
be confined to the Shamrock verse. I think people often like the 
repetition of one air over and over, far better than a great variety. 

The air is flowing and attractive, and there is no harm in its 
brevity. The first part, " We hail thee," has a transition, which we 
fear that the rules of thorough-bass might not permit ; and the 

1 Prince and Princess of Wales. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 121 

Thistle is hardly equal to either the Shamrock or the Rose, — of 
which, you see, I would make a separate song and hymn. If you 
would write out the song to the music of the former, I do not see why 
we should not try to get it accepted by a publisher, I hope that you 
will excuse my thus venturing to criticise your song and so unmerci- 
fully to cut it short. 

' I will give on the next page the words which I propose putting — 
for my own use — to the hymn part. Very little alteration will make 
them go very well to the air, for I have tried them ; and the repetition 
of the last words, which your sweet music requires, suits lines the 
whole emphasis of which falls on the closing words ; at least I fancy 
so.' 

The lines following are given here, not exactly as they 
appeared in the letter, but in the corrected and im- 
proved form which afterwards appeared in print with the 
music : — 

'The Lord He is my strength and stay. 
When sorrow's cup o'erflows the brim ; 
It sweetens all if we can say, 
" This is from Him ! " 
All comfort, comfort, flows from Him. 

' When humbly labouring for my Lord, 
Faint grows the heart and weak the limb. 
What strength and joy are in the words, 
" This is for Him ! " 
'Tis sweet to spend our strength for Him. 

' I hope for ever to abide 
Where dwell the radiant Seraphim ; 
Delivered, pardoned, glorified ; 
But 'tis through Him ! 
All light and glory flow from Him. 

' Then welcome be the hour of death. 
When Nature's lamp burns low and dim. 
If I can cry with dying breath, 
"I goto Him !" 
For Life Eternal flows from Him.' 



122 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

TO MISS BELLA F. TUCKER. 

'Feb. II, 1862. 

* I have read your touching account of your most sorely afflicted 
friend with great interest. I visit the Imbecile Ward/ and I fear 
that she must be in the Insane Ward ; but I will be sure to make 
inquiries, and perhaps I may find that I can follow her thither. I 
am not timid. Very very glad should 1 be to impart any comfort in 
such a case of awful distress ; but I fear that she may not understand 
even sympathy.' 

TO THE SAME. 

'Feb. 26, 1862. 
' I went to our afflicted friend. ... I talked to her as comfortingly 
as I could, and told her that I thought this sad trial might be sent 
that she might be like Christiana, walking on a Heavenward path, 
with all her children with her. I was glad to draw forth one or two 
tears, for tearless anguish is the most terrible. She said that she 
prayed the Lord to take her. I did not think that a good prayer, but 
suggested that she should ask the Lord to come to her, as to the 
disciples in the storm. She has promised to repeat the two very 
little prayers, " Lord, come to me " ; and " Lord, make my children 
Thine, for Jesus' sake." It was touching to hear her repeating softly, 
again and again, — " Make me Thine ! make me Thine ! " ' 

TO THE SAME. 

'•March 25, 1862. 

'Though still very low to-day, Mrs. did not seem to me to be 

inaccessible to religious comfort. I fancied that there was a little 
lightening of the darkness. ... I do not know of anything that she 
wants. I have supplied her with working materials. Perhaps a little 
book with pictures in it is as good as anything, as amusing without 
fatiguing the mind, ... I know the beautiful large texts that you 
allude to ; but I do not know where they could well be fixed in 
the Insane Ward. They are more, I think, for the bedridden.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'Gresford, Sept. 13, 1863. 
' I thought of you as I stood on the soft green slope down to the 
water, and looked on the bright little stream, with its white foam 

1 Of the Marylebone Workhouse. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 123 

sparkling in the sunlight. How much of its beauty it owes to the 
pebbles that fret it ; and how much of its rapidity to the fall in its 
course. But in our lives, how we — at least I — shrink from the 
pebbles ! How we would fain have all glassy smooth, — though 
Nature itself teaches us that then it would become stagnant. The 
" sea of glass " is for another world. . . . 

' I sometimes think that consoling is one of the most delightful 
employments given to God's servants. It is pleasanter than teaching ; 
far far more so than reproving others, or struggling against evil,, or 

examining our own hearts. You were a comfort to poor dear , 

and I dare say that the sense of being so lightened your own trial of 

parting. I would give a great deal to have your influence with ; 

but the Almighty has not been pleased to grant me this. Perhaps 
He will some day.' 

TO THE SAME. 

''July 29, 1864. 

' I want particularly to know whether, in case I see my way to 
gaining money by it for some religious or charitable purpose, you 
will make me a present of that little bit of your welcome to the 
Princess which I have turned into a hymn. Also whether you would 
mind Mrs. Hamilton's name being published on it. The hymn has 
been ringing so in my ears, and with such a soothing effect when 
I did not feel particularly cheerful, that I should like others to have 
the same comfort. I have made inquiries as to the cost of printing 
and publishing it. . . . Being very short, I do not think that much 
could be asked ; and this is perhaps the gem of your music. I do 
not want it to be done at your expense, but at my own, and to manage 
everything after my own fashion, — but I cannot plunder you either 
of your music or your name without your leave. . . . 

'Pear Fanny is better, though still prisoner to her room. She has 
had a sharp attack of fever ; and I am afraid it will be difficult to 
throw off the cough. The rest of our party are well, as I trust that 
I may find you and your dear circle.' 

TO THE SAME. 

'■Aug. I, 1864. 

'Your and your dear husband's sweet notes quite added to the 

cheerfulness of our breakfast-table. Even Fanny did not appear 

knocked down by your tender scolding. She, for the first time since 

Tuesday, came to breakfast. She still needs great care, for the cold 



124 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

was on her chest, and even speaking is liable to make her cough. 
Mother highly approves of your plan of coming to town. She desires 
me to say that she knows that her face is before you, as yours is before 
her. Dear Fanny will probably not start for Brighton till Wednesday 
week, so she will have the pleasure of welcoming you, and I am sure 
that you will try not to let her be loquacious. . . . 

' Many thanks for your kind present of the music. I am going to 
have it printed by converted Jews, and the entire profits devoted to 
the Society for the Conversion of Jews ; so that it will be a little 
offering from us both to one of the holiest of causes. ... I take the 
expense of the edition of 500 copies. They are to be sold for is. 
apiece ; so if all are sold there is a contribution of ^25 clear to the 
Society. ... I am rather hopeful that the whole edition will go off 
before Christmas ; for one shilling is not a formidable sum, especially 
when people can get a new song and help a good cause at the same 
time. ... I take great pleasure in this little piece of business. I 
have been quite haunted by the music. I am ordering the plate to 
be preserved, in case of a Second Edition being required. So Mrs. 
Hamilton is going to come out as a Composer !' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON.^ 

'•March 31, 1865. 
' My dear God-daughter, — I shall like to think of you particularly 
to-morrow, because it is the Anniversary of the day when your dear 
parents in church solemnly presented their precious little first-born 
babe to God ; and I stood there to answer for her. Dear Leila, may 
each return of that day find you drawing nearer and nearer to Him 
who said, " Suffer the little children to come unto Me." If we could 
only feel in our hearts that He really does love us, and that He 
deigns to care whether we love Him, what a motive it would be for 
doing everything as in His sight ! We are too apt to think of our 
Saviour as very far off, and with so many to care for that we are 
almost beneath His notice. But this is wrong. The Sun shines and 
sparkles on every dewdrop in a field, as much as if it were the only 
dewdrop in the world. He does not pass it over, because it is little ; 
he makes it beautiful in his light, and then draws it up towards 
himself. ... I wish that I could come and pay you a visit ; but I do 
not see how I am to leave Grandmamma as long as dear Aunt Fanny 
is an invalid. I seem wanted at home.' 

It may have been somewhere about this year, or not 

1 Daughter of A. L. O. E.'s sister Laura. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 125 

very long before it, that Charlotte wrote the following 
pretty and graceful lines : — 

' Each silver thread that gHtters in the hair, 
Is like a wayside landmark, — planted there 
To show Earth's pilgrims, as they onward wend, 
How nearly they approach their journey's end ! ' 



CHAPTER X 

A.D. 1 864-1 866 

A HEAVY SHADOW 

The afternoon shadows were again to darken around 
Charlotte Tucker ; and one blow after another had to fall. 
Her mother was growing old, and in no long time would 
be called away. The health of her gentle sister, Fanny, 
had begun to fail, never to be entirely restored. But a 
yet sharper sorrow, because utterly unlooked for, was to 
come before the loss of either her mother or her sister, like 
a flash of lightning into the midst of clear sunshine. 

Of all the many whom she dearly loved, none perhaps 
lay closer to her heart than Letitia, the only daughter of 
her brother Robert, — the youngest of 'the Robins.' The 
two boys were now out in the world, one in India, one at 
sea ; but Letitia hitherto had never left her, except for 
visits here or there among relatives and friends. One who 
knew them both well describes the contrast between aunt 
and niece at this period, — Charlotte Tucker, ' so upright 
and animated, very thin, fair, with auburn hair, not very 
abundant, but which curled slightly, naturally,' — and 
Letitia, ' grave, with beautiful dark eyes and hair, and 
rather dark complexion.' Another speaks of Letitia as 
tall and handsome, with dark eyes, dark chestnut hair, 
regular features, and sweet smile. 

The gravity seems to have been a marked characteristic 
of this gifted young girl. From very babyhood she was 

126 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 127 

earnestly religious, and of a peculiarly serious tempera- 
ment ; though at the same time energetic and sometimes 
even lively. She had not her aunt's spirit of fun ; but the 
two were alike in generosity and in determination. Per- 
haps Charlotte Tucker's training had especially developed 
these traits in her niece. A favourite proverb of Letitia's 
was — ' Perseverance conquers difficulties ' ; — and it would 
have served equally well for A. L. O. E. 

Letitia was also very fond of little children, and she 
worked much among the poor. She was an exceedingly 
good and fearless rider ; and at twenty years old there 
was already promise of a literary gift. Her passion for 
reading was so great that Hallam's History was a 
recreation in her eyes. She had written at least one short 
story, which had found its way into print, and many pretty, 
simple verses, chiefly of a religious character. One of her 
hymns, composed at the age of eighteen, may be given 
here : — 

' My soul was dark, for o'er its sight 

The shades of sorrow fell ; — 
In Thee alone there still was light, 
Jesus, Immanuel ! 

' And all around me and above 

There hung a gloomy spell ; — 
I should have died without Thy love, 
Jesus, Immanuel ! 

' For in my sinking heart there beat 

An ever-sounding knell ; — 
But still I knew the " promise sweet," 
Jesus, Immanuel ! 

' I looked to Thee through all my fears, 

The pain and grief to quell ; — 
Thy Hand hath wiped away my tears, 
Jesus, Immanuel ! 



128 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

' I heard a low, " a still small voice," 

Soft whisper, "It is well " ; — 
And knew the Saviour of my choice, 
Jesus, Immanuel ! 

' And still, o'er all life's changing sea, 

In calm or stormy swell, 
I '11 look in faith straight up to Thee, 
Jesus, Immanuel ! " 

On November 28, 1864, Letitia left English shores, to 
join her uncle, Mr. St George Tucker and his family, in 
India. Letters of Charlotte Tucker, referring to the 
event, have not come to hand ; but she must have felt the 
separation very keenly, whatever might have been the 
precise reasons which led to the move. Letitia had now 
been practically her child for eighteen years ; and a close 
tie existed between the two. But no doubt Charlotte 
looked upon the parting as of a very temporary nature ; 
as merely sending her child away for a longer visit than 
any preceding. The real anguish of separation came a 
year later, when suddenly the young girl was summoned 
to her true Home. 

The few following extracts lie between these two dates, — 
the going of Letitia to India, and the tidings of her death. 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'Jem. 3, 1865. 

'Many thanks, my dear Leila, for your affectionate note. . . . 
There was another nice cheerful note from my Letitia to-day. She 
wrote it when on the Red Sea, which she evidently found very warm, 
for she described the ship as a " hothouse," and said that she and her 
fellow-passengers would be " fine exotics " before they arrived. There 
had been two Services on board on Sunday, and Letitia had heard 
two excellent sermons. Mary Egerton had her harmonium on board, 
which had been brought up from the hold, so there was nice hymn- 
singing too. How sweet the music must have sounded on the water ! 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 129 

I think that, steaming over the Red Sea, one would have liked to 
have raised the song of the Israelites — 

" Sound the loud timbrel o'er Eg}'pt's dark sea, 
Jehovah hath triumphed, His people are free ! " 

' My dear sailor is to leave us on the 17th or i8th for China. I 
believe that he is to travel part of the journey in the same vessel as 
the Cuthbert Thornhills, who were to have taken charge of Letitia 
had our first arrangements held good. They will have one Robin 
instead of the other. Poor dear Mrs. Thornhill, what a sad parting 
is before her ! I had a loving note very lately from my Louis. He 
fears that he will not get leave to see his dear sister for a twelve- 
month. 

' The weather here has been chilly. None of the ladies have ven- 
tured out of the house since Saturday ; but Charley has in vain longed 
for skating. Ice forms, then melts again. Dear Grandmamma keeps 
wonderfully free from cold ; but then she remains in the house,' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. (Undated.) 

' My loved boy left us yesterday, quiet and firm, shedding no tear. 
We (Mamma) had a little note from him this morning,— such a 
simple one, — you might have fancied that he had only left us for a 
week. Dear boy ! I trust that he is going into sunshine ; above all 
I hope and pray that his Father's God will ever be with him. It 
would not have been well for him to have remained much longer in 
London with nothing particular to do. Active life is most wholesome 
to a fine strong man like my Charley. . . . 

' Dear Mother keeps well. Sweet Fan I cannot give so good an 
account of. I have urged Mother to have further advice ; and I 
believe that there will be a little consultation on Friday ; but perhaps 
you had better not write about this, except to me.' 



TO THE SAME. 

'•Nov. 15, 1865. 

'What a bright account you give of your dear busy young party 
Tell dear Otho that I shall be charmed if he makes the discovery of a 
magenta-coloured caterpillar, or a mauve earwig ; and that as it will 
be ten times as curious as the Spongmenta Padella, it ought to have 
a Latin name ten times as long. I don't despair of the great sea- 
I 



■^ 



T30 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

serpent. Did I tell you that dear Mrs. Thornhill had, when a girl, 
conversed with a Mrs. Hodgeson, wife of one of the Governors of our 
West Indian possessions, who had watched the movements of two 
that were fighting in the waves for about te?t minutes ? 

" 'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life, 
One glance at such a fray ! — " 

I took down the particulars, as I thought them very curious. . . . 

' This is my sweet Letitia's birthday ; she is just twenty. . . . My 
Letitia is going to pay Louis a visit at Moultan.' 

No foreboding whisper in her heart spoke of what that 
visit to Moultan, so lightly mentioned, would mean to 
them all. When the two next letters were penned, little 
as Charlotte dreamt of what was coming, the blow had 
already fallen, and Letitia had passed away. 

TO MRS. HAIMILTON. 

^ Ja7l. 2, 1866. 

' May the best blessings of the opening year rest upon my beloved 
Laura, and her dear circle. 

' I hope that dear Leila received my Rescued from Egypt in the 
Christmas box. I put it up for her, and to the best of my knowledge 
it went to Bournemouth ; but as neither she nor you have mentioned 
seeing it, I feel half afraid that in some way I cannot imagine 
it has missed its destination, and the dear girl has fancied that when 
sending little remembrances to her brothers I had forgotten her. 

' Such a delightful budget of letters I had from Letitia by last 
Southampton mail ! She writes that she is "very very happy.'" 

TO THE SAME. 

^Jan. 3, 1866. 
' I feel that I have not said half enough to your dear husband for 
his splendid book. I was in such a hurry to write and thank him, 
that I only gave myself time for a cursory glance. . . . Dear Fanny 
enjoyed looking at the pictures with me ; and to-day I carried up my 
book to dear Mother, that she might have the pleasure also. She 
admires your dear husband's gift greatly, and we agree that it is just 
the book to take to the Cottage. It seems to be quite a treasure of 
curious and interesting knowledge ; a volume to keep for reference as 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 131 

well as for perusal. Do thank dear Mr, Hamilton again for me, and 
tell him that I consider Homes Without Hands as a family acquisi- 
tion. 

' We are all much i7i static quo. Our time is now passing swiftly 
and pleasantly. Mother looks so bright and bonny and young ! We 
were talking together to-day of your and your dear husband's kind- 
ness to sweet Fanny. I am sure that it has not been lost.' 

Then came the mournful news ; and a hasty short scrawl 
conveyed the first intimation of it from Charlotte Tucker 
to her niece, ' Leila ' Hamilton ; a note without any formal 
beginning : — 

'Break to your sweet Mother and Aunt Mina that God has taken 
my darling Letitia. His Will be done, — Your sorrowing Aunt, 

'C. M. T. 
'AH was peace, — smiling!'' 

The illness had been short, — a severe attack of erysi- 
pelas, while Letitia was in her brother's house at Moultan. 
Somewhat early in the illness she had said, — ' I am sure I 
shall die ; but one ought not to mind, you know.' While 
delirious she was heard to say distinctly, — ' Ta,' — her pet 
name in the past for her aunt Charlotte ; but the message, 
if there were one, could not be distinguished. 

After much wandering, she regained sufficient conscious- 
ness to assure those around that she was suffering no pain ; 
and five or six times she repeated to her brother, — ' I am 
very fond of you ! ' This was on a Wednesday. The 
next day, Thursday, she was too weak for speech ; though 
in the morning, recognising her brother, she gave him a 
sweet smile. Thenceforward the dying girl was entirely 
peaceful ; as said by one of those present, — ' constantly 
smiling. Her whole face was lighted up as with extreme 
pleasure.' All day this continued, as she slowly sank ; 
the face remaining perfectly calm and untroubled ; till 
at length, when she passed away, soon after eleven o'clock 
at night, ' she ceased to breathe so gently that she seemed 



132 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

to have fallen into a deep sleep.' But the placid smile 
was still there, unchanged, till the sweet young face was 
hidden away. 

Charlotte Tucker, writing to her sister, Mrs. Hamilton, 
about these sad particulars, which yet were not all sad, 
observed : — 

' 1 am sure your heart has been aching, and your eyes have been 
weeping. Such a sudden — such an unexpected stroke ! But God 
is Wisdom and Love. . . . 

' Darhng — my own darUng Letitia ! Oh, when she looked so 
happy, did she not see the angels — or her beloved Father — or the 
Bedwells and old Rodman whom she had so tended, — perhaps all 
coming to welcome her, — or the loving Saviour Himself? I do not 
grudge her to Him ; but oh, what a wealth of love I have (apparently) 
lost in that one young heart ! Her last parcel of letters to me 
contained sweet commissions for her poor. ... I dare say that I 
shall hear from you to-morrow ; but it is a relief to me to write 
now to you, who were so kind and dear to her. I went out before 
breakfast this morning. A thrush was singing so sweetly. I saw 
the first crocus of the year. My flower, — my lovely one, — she may 
now be singing in joy, while we sit in sorrow.' 

This letter was dated January 21 ; and three days 
later another went to Mrs. Hamilton, not from Charlotte, 
but from Fanny : — 

' My own dearest Laura, — Your dear letters have been 
very soothing to our Charlotte, and have helped to remind her of 
the mercies mingled with the bereavement. The sure sweet hope 
that her darling is safe, and for ever happy, has been her strong 
consolation ; and God is mercifully supporting her, I am thankful to 
say. Last Sunday she went both to Church and to the Workhouse. 

' I am thankful to be near her, to minister to her, — but wish I \vere 
a better comforter, such as yoii would have been, dear. 

' The sad tidings were most gently broken to our dear Mother 
by Clara. She was therefore mercifully spared the shock of the 
sudden intelligence. 

'With kindest remembrances to dear Mr. Hamilton, and love to 
your dear self and your dear ones, believe me, dearest Laura, your 
very affectionate F. Tucker.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 133 

C. M. T. TO A COUSIN. 

'■Jan. 24, 1866. 

' Many thanks for your kind sympathy. My sweet consolation 
indeed is that my own darling girl sleeps in Jesus. When such a 
bright look of "extreme pleasure" lighted up the dear face of one 
called away in the bloom of her youth and beauty, was she not 
realising her own sweet lines, — 

" I heard'a Voice, ' a still small Voice,' 
Soft whisper, ' It is well,' 
And knew the Saviour of my choice, 
Jesus, Immanuel " ? ' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'Feb. 6, 1866. 

' Did I ever tell you that my darling wrote to me when she was 
at the Hills, saying that she did not wish me to be altogether dis- 
appointed in regard to her, and asking me whom I would wish her 
to try to resemble. I mentioned you, — for I thought that as her 
disposition was lively, it would be more easy for her to try to be 
like you than dear Fanny ; besides she had seen you as a wife 
and mother, and I did not know whether the Almighty might not 
destine her to be such. He had something "far better" for my 
loved one. 

' It will interest you to know that G (P 's protegee).^ after 

winning honours at Cambridge, wishes to be baptized as a Christian. 

Amy H and her husband are to be two of his witnesses, and he 

is anxious that dear Henry ^ should be the third ; for it was Henry's 
consistent character which first showed him what Christianity really 
is.' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'Feb. 13, 1866. 

' I thank you lovingly, dearest Leila, for your letter. I prize your 
affection, — you write to me almost as my own darling used to write. 
If my health had broken down, so that I could not have been a 
comfort to dear Grandmamma and Aunt Fanny here, I should 
thankfully have accepted the invitation which you so affectionately 
press ; but as I keep pretty well, I do not think that it Avould be 

1 jMr. Henry Carre Tucker. 



134 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

well for me to leave my post at home. Dear Grandmamma seems 
to cling to me so, — she is so loving ! I am thankful that she keeps 
so well. Dear Aunt Fanny was not so well for two days, but is 
better again. . . . 

' My darling once wrote and asked me whose character I would 
like her to try to copy as a pattern. I gave her your sweet Mothers. 
She replied that it would be difficult, but that it was well to aim 
high. I think that you will like to know this. You have the same 
sweet model always before you ; you, dear one, have advantages that 
my darling had not. 

'Though I have cried over this note, it has soothed me to write 
it ; I have felt as if I were taking another dear young niece to my 
heart, — a sad heart, but I trust not an ungrateful one for the earthly 
affection which is God's gift, and of which I have been granted 
much. — Your affectionate Aunt and Godmother C, M. T.' 



TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'1866. 

' I send you on the other page a few lines which came into my 
mind yesterday in regard to my sweet Letitia : — 

' A Thought, 

' She travelled to the glorious East ; she met the rising sun, — 
And even so her day of heavenly bliss was soon begun ; 
I knew 'twas sunrise with my child, while night was o'er me weeping, 
E'er closed my weary day, my darling was serenely sleeping. 
And so Thou didst ordain, O Lord, as Thou didst deem it best, — ■ 
That hers should be the earlier dawn, and hers the earlier rest.' 



TO MISS B. F. TUCKER. 

'May 2 2, 1866. 

' I have been learning a new art, and am thankful to find that I 
have sufficient energy left in me to do so. I sent for some reading 
in embossed letters for a blind man here, and amused myself by 
puzzling it out myself I have succeeded in reading right through 
the fourteenth of St. John in two sittings of about an hour and twenty 
minutes each. It was an effort of memory as well as attention, as 
some of the letters are utterly unlike those to which we have been 
accustomed. The poor blind man promises well to acquire the art, 
I think.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 135 

TO THE SAME. 

'July 16, 1866. 

'Have you seen the mysterious sky-visitor? On Friday evening- 
our maids saw something like three stars, one red, — but they dis- 
appeared. On the following night Cousins ^ called me to look on 
what I would not have missed seeing for a good deal. About thirty 
degrees above the horizon, I should think, shone what was like a 
star, but more splendid than any that I had ever beheld, of a brilliant 
magenta colour. It was no falling star passing rapidly through the 
sky, but appeared quite fixed in the heavens for — perhaps ten 
minutes. As I gazed with something like awe on its wondrous 
beauty, suddenly its colour utterly changed ; the magenta became 
white, with a greenish tinge ; and then — as suddenly — the star dis- 
appeared ; not as if hidden by a cloud, but as \i put out. 

' I watched for the mysterious light last night, but could not see 
it ; the evening had been so strangely dark that we had lighted 
candles an hour before sunset, though our window looks to the 
west. No star was visible to me ; but our maids had a short glimpse 
of a strange light. I am sitting by the window now to watch for 
the visitor in the north-west. ... I searched The Times to-day to 
see if there were any mention of it, but could find none.' 

Evidently Charlotte Tucker had been fortunate enough 
to see a very fine meteor ; though probably the supposed 
duration of ten minutes was in reality a good deal 
shorter. The idea of watching for the same meteor next 
night is somewhat amusing. The maids doubtless saw 
what they expected to see ; but Charlotte Tucker, though 
non-scientific, was far too practical so to indulge her 
powers of imagination. 

In another letter written during this same July to Mrs. 
Hamilton occurs one little sentence well worth quoting, 
for it is a sentence which might serve as a motto for many 
a seemingly empty and even purposeless life — 

'It is sweet to be somebody's sunshine.' 

In June Mrs. Tucker had written to a friend, — 'Charlotte 

1 The lady's-maid. 



136 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

walked twice to church, and thinks she is stronger.' And 
in a letter to Mrs. Hamilton, on the 23rd of July, Charlotte 
said of herself, — ' I am quite well now, and up to work ' ; 
— yet the following to a niece, on September ist, does not 
speak of fully restored energies : — 

' I have so much to be grateful for, I wish that I were of a more 
thankful spirit. It seems as if this year had aged me. When I 
saw a bright creature like , I mentally contrasted her with my- 
self, and thought, — " She has not the gee out of her. Cheerfully 
and hopefully she enters on her untried sphere of work. In her 
place I should be taking cares ! " — very wrong of me. I often take 
myself to task. 

' I feel putting off my dark dress for one day on Wednesday. . . . 
My darling was to me what she was not to her other Aunts.' 

To some people, or in certain states of body and mind, 
the afternoon is apt to be a more tired time than the 
evening. At this stage in Charlotte Tucker's Afternoon 
of life she passed through a somewhat weary spell, though 
never really ill ; but her energies were to revive for the 
work of her Eventide. 

On October 6th she could say, — 

'^ I am not poorly, though I look thin ; I think that I am stronger 
in health and firmer in spirit now than I have been almost all this 
trying year ; and for this I am thankful.' 

TO Miss 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'Nov. 2, 1866. 

' Your sweet Mother will wonder at not receiving the little book 
which I promised to send her ; but our bookseller, from whom I 
ordered the copy, has been unable to get it yet. I will tell you 
something that may cause delay. Of course I looked with some 
interest at the illustrations which my Publisher sent me ; but I 
was not a little surprised in the last one to find one whom I con- 
sidered to be a man represented as a bear ! He was bearish in 
character certainly, but still — certainly not a bear in shape. 

' Of course I wrote to Mr. Inglis about it ; who replied that he 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER lyj 

had been annoyed himself at the resemblance to a bear, and had 
sent the picture more than once to be altered, and had been at last 
so much provoked that he had paid off the artist altogether. Now, 
though I may be a little sorry for the poor man, — I never proposed 
his dismissal, — I confess I am rather glad that he is not to illustrate 
my books any more. There is no saying what creature he might 
turn my characters into next. Mr. Inglis is going to have the 
picture altered ; so this may occasion delay.' 



CHAl'TER XI 

A.D. 1 867- 1 868 
GIVING COMFORT TO OTHERS 

Three more years only remained to Charlotte of life in 
the dear old home of her infancy. Those three years 
passed quietly, marked by no stirring events. On the 
nth of December 1867, Otho St. George Hamilton, son 
of her sister Laura, died at the age of thirteen, after a 
long illness ; and during these years Fanny continued 
steadily to fail. The delicacy developed into a case of 
decided consumption, but of a slow and lingering descrip- 
tion. A few sentences are culled from the many letters 
which remain, belonging to this period. 

TO MISS ' LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'Feb. 1867. 

' I wish my sweet Leila to receive a few lines on her birthday. 
. . . Temptis fiigit^ indeed. When you open this you will be thirteen 
years old. It seems to me as if each year now were growing more 
and more important ; the stream is widening ; the mind is opening ; 
and . . . may the heart be opening too to that Love which is beyond 
all earthly love. 

' I had a pleasant childhood. My mind was very active, as well 
as my bodily frame ; and at your age I dare say that life lay before 
me, a bright, hope-inspiring thing. It is well that it should be 
so ; it is a kind arrangement of Providence that the young should 
be usually full of energy and hope, I like to recall how I felt, that 
I may enter into the feelings of others. 

' Now of course I have not exactly the same kind of landscape 
before me as I had at thirteen. I am in my forty-sixth year, have 

138 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 139 

known care and sorrow, and have at present but feeble health. And 
yet, dear, I don't want to exchange my landscape ; I have no wish 
to go back. I have found that middle age has its deep joys, as well 
as early youth its sparkling ones. Sometimes I ask myself, — "Now, 
in my present position, if I had no pleasure in religion, if every- 
thing connected with that were cut off, what would be left me ? — what 
would life be to me ? " O Leila, what a tasteless, what a bitter thing ! 
We want delights that will not grow old, that will never pall, that 
will be just as fresh and lovely at eighty as at eighteen. Rehgion 
is not merely, as some seem to fancy, to prepare us for death, but 
to be the happiness of life. It calls indeed for the sacrifice of self- 
will in a hundred little ways ; but it repays those little sacrifices a 
hundred times over. Just think what it is to realise such thoughts 
as these, — "The Lord Jesus loves me! I am His own! I shall 
see Him one day, and be with Him ! " How can such thoughts 
ever lose their sweetness?' 

TO THE SAME. 

' April iZ, 1867. 
' How different your still, noiseless dwelling must be to ours at 
present ! Not that we have much noise, but sometimes so much 

seems going on. Yesterday M A D and a young cousin 

came in the morning ; then before they had left Cousin M E 

and four fine children, then Uncle St. George and his wife. All 
this before luncheon ; others came after it ; and 1 went to the 
Poorhouse, and then lodging-hunting with Uncle St. George. He 
is so sweet and loving and good. . . . He delights Grandmamma.' 

TO THE SAME. 

'July I, 1867. 

' It is mournfully interesting to read my darling's papers, of which 

L has brought home many. Her prose is usually lively ; her 

poetry full of tenderness, often very sad. . . . The two latest dated 
poems were, I think, written August 14. They were called "An 
Early Grave" and "All is Vanity." Every stanza of the first 
expresses desire for an early departure. The second thus beautifully 
closes — 

' ' There 's rest beneath the yew ; I know 
There 's deeper Rest in realms above ; 
The Saviour's Arm the valley through 

Will me uphold with strengthening love ; 
My hope His Righteousness ; my buckler, faith ; 
Why should I fear to tread the shades of death?" 



I40 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

' If this really be the darling's last written stanza, what a touching 
interest it gives it ! ' 

TO MISS B. F. TUCKER. 

'Sept. 9, 1867. 

' Poor little Otho has rallied again, though the doctor holds out no 
hope of ultimate recovery. This is a sad time for my poor Laura, 
though there are sorer trials than that of bereavement.' 

The Hamiltons were at this time in great trouble, as 
they watched the long-drawn-out sufferings of their dying 
boy ; and many letters were written by Charlotte to her 
favourite sister, full of intense feeling. Day by day she 
lived with them in their sorrow, anxiously looking out for 
fresh tidings, and thinking what she could say to comfort 
or soothe. 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'Oct. 30, 1867. 

'Precious Sister, — Your touching letter has quickened the spirit 
of Prayer ; but oh, I feel as if my prayers were often so weak and 
worthless. I want more faith, more earnestness. I have not time 
to write more, but could not let that letter be unanswered by your 
loving C. M. T.' 

TO THE SAME. 

'Nov. 9, 1867. 

' Fanny and I have been conversing to-night on the subject of 
your dear suffering boy. You long fervently to see him rejoicing in 
the prospect of departing and being with Christ. Perhaps the one 
obstacle to his being able to do so is the thought of parting from 
you. If his Mother were going with him, he may think, he would be 
happy to go. 

' Now to me, were I in your darling's position, there would be 
comfort and pleasure in the idea — " Perhaps, as regards me, leaving 
the body will not be real separation from dear ones. Perhaps I may 
be allowed to come to them, and minister to them, and cheer them ; 
though they cannot see me I may see them ! " This idea does not 
appear opposed to Scripture. The rich man in the parable believed 
that Lazarus could go to Earth ; and Abraham never said that he 
could not. If dear Otho thought that he might possibly be per- 
mitted to watch over his Mother, and help to make her happy, and 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 141 

be one of the first to welcome her to bhss, — perhaps the real 
bitterness of death would for him seem taken away. It seems quite 
possible that dear Robin was by his child's sick-bed, and that she 
saw him, when her face so lighted up with joy. " I believe in the 
Communion of Saints." 

'Your dear boy is very young. A child's religion seems almost to 
begin with the Fifth Commandment. We can hardly yet expect 
dear Otho to love the Lord whom he has not seen more than the 
parents whom he has seen and fondly loved. Do you not think, 
darling, that you are almost too anxious on the subject of Otho's state 
of mind? He is only a lamb ; and the Good Shepherd knows that 
he needs to be carried. 

' I should like to know when your dear boy takes the Holy Com- 
munion, that I may be with you in thought and in prayer. Otho is 
an invited guest to the Great Feast above ; his robe is prepared by his 
Lord,— don't fear, love, that it will not be very white and very fair. . . . 

' P.S. — Nov. 10. — I have been thinking much of your dear one in 
church ; and I open my note to add another reason suggested to my 
mind, as a cause why he may be unable ... to feel joy in the 
thought of departure. You and I, my Laura, have known many of 
God's saints now in bliss ; we have almost as many dear friends in 
the world of spirits as in this. Perhaps we are hardly aware of the 
influence which this has on our minds, — how it helps to make 
Heaven a home. Your dear boy may feel that he is going to enter 
amongst a great company of saints, almost every one of whom is a 
stranger to him. To one so reserved as Otho, this may be rather an 
awful thought. I wonder if it is a comfort to him to think of sweet 
Letitia and Christian^ being there. Perhaps if you reminded him of 
that, it might remove a feeling which — if he entertains it — he might 
not like to mention even to you.' 

TO THE SAME. 

^ Nov. 13, 1867. 

'I thank God that He has made your darling willing to depart, 
even to leave you. Your note is deeply interesting ; and I think you 
may feel that your prayers have been answered. . . . You must now 
only think of the "far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 
Probably every hour of suffering in some mysterious way enhances 
and increases future rapture, — rapture more intense than we can 

1 Otho's youngest brother, who died an infant. 



142 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

conceive. The longer I live, the more convinced I feel that there is 
this mysterious connection — in the case of God's children — between 
personal pain and future delight. So that, if we could, as we fain 
would, shield our treasures from suffering, we might be depriving 
them of some rich blessing. 

' You are in the furnace, my precious sister, — a hotter furnace, 
perhaps, than that which tries your child. I need not repeat that 
whenever you want me, you have only to send for me. You and I 
understand each other ! How sweet is the tie between us ! Dear 
Mother is apt to indulge hopes of your boy's recovery. I think that 
she hardly realises his state, and probably she scarcely knows how 
to write under the circumstances. She has had a cold these last 
few days, but is, I hope, throwing it off. . . . 

' I send you a little book,^ which I am sure will interest you. It 
has been a mournful pleasure to me to prepare it. Your lamb as 
well as mine will probably soon "be folded above.'" 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

^ Nov. 14, 1867. 

* My heart feels more with you, my Laura, in that still sick-room 
than here. Perhaps many angels are about you and your boy, though 
you see them not. 

' Like your dear invalid, I am especially fond of St. Luke's account 
of the dying thief There is something so touching in his looking at 
such a moment to the Saviour, whose Blood, shed for his salvation, 
was at that moment trickling down in his view ; and there is some- 
thing so sublime in our Lord's conferring Eternal Life, — such a gift, 
— at the time when He was Himself undergoing the terrible sentence 
of death ! We may envy your dear suffering child, my Laura, when 
we think how soon, in human expectation, his eyes will behold the 
King in His beauty. 

' O darling, you could hardly wish to keep him back, when the 
Master calls him, — calls him to His Home — His Arms ! 

' I feel for your dear husband ; this is a time of sore trial for him ; 
but you suffer together. May God give you both "songs in the 
night." Those songs are perhaps sweeter to Him than the Hallelujahs 
of the Angels.' 

TO THE SAME. 

'Nov. 21, 1867. 
' How well I know that feeling which you describe, — the feeling of 

1 A tiny -Memorial of Letitia, containing some of her verses. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 143 

being unable to pray fervently, — of being scarcely able to pray at all 1 
This is probably caused ... by fatigue of body, and overstraining 
of mind and nerves. Perhaps God permits it, that we should just 
sink in complete helplessness at our Saviour's Feet, and ask Him to 
pray for us, since we cannot pray for ourselves. . . . You may be 
like a very little child, that can't even ask for w^hat it needs, but yet 
trusts and fears not' 

TO MISS LEILA HAMILTON. 

'■Dec. II, 1867. 

' Your very very sad account of dear Otho received this morning 
makes one think that, even before this reaches you, the sufferer 
may have been called home ! Oh what a blessing it is that it is indeed 
Home. . . . Dear Otho has had a sorely trying journey, wintry and 
wearisome indeed ; but there is no shadow, never can be a shadow, 
on the Home to which he is bound. He will never have to leave it 
again, to learn the lesson of patience in pain. He will, through his 
Lord's merits, be ready there to welcome the dear ones whom he is 
now leaving behind, — when they too may quit their school, and go 
to their Father in Heaven. . . . 

' This is a solemn time for you, my Leila. I had reached the age 
of thirty before I ever looked upon that which is called death, in my 
own home. These events make the invisible world seem nearer. 
They should draw us upwards ; they should bring us closer to our 
God.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

^ Dec. 12, 1867. 

'Most precious Laura, — When Lady Catherine L 's only 

son was called, she sank on her knees, and said, — " My child, I wish 
you joy I " so wonderfully was she enabled to realise the happiness, 
the ecstasy, of the freed spirit, rising up to the presence of her 
Saviour and God. Happy, happy Otho ! No more to be pitied, but 
to be envied ! 

' " O change, O wondrous change ! 
Burst are the prison bars, — 
One moment past — how low 
In mortal pangs, — and now 
Beyond the stars ! " 

' I will not write much to you now, darling. I am going to see 
your Freddie, but intend to tell him nothing. 



144 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

'Express my tender sympathy to your dear husband. God support 
you all. — Your loving C. M. T.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'•Jan. 14, 1868. 

' It was not with dry eyes, my beloved Laura, that I could read 
what was written in those volumes, to which a tenfold value is given 
by their being last Remembrances from your lately suffering, now 
blessed boy. Oh, with what a heavy heavy heart must you have put 
up those parcels, and written those inscriptions ! It will perhaps be 
a long time before you can realise with calm thankfulness that it 
is indeed so " well with the child " that you can rejoice in his safety, 
his happiness. ... I am now much more disposed to praise for my 
angel-girl than to weep for her. ... I can see so clearly the Love 
and Wisdom that took her Home. Presently, my precious sorrowing 
sister, you may feel the same about your boy. Your intense love 
will remain, for love is immortal ; your sorrow will die, for sorrow 
with Christ's people is not immortal, thank God. — Your tenderly 
loving C. M. Tucker.' 

TO THE SAME. 

' I have enjoyed your dear letter, and it makes me feel thankful. 
I have often thought that freed spirits probably lead a life of delight- 
ful activity ; none of the " burdens of the flesh " to fetter them down. 
The idea of spirits preaching to spirits is, however, rather new to me. 
But there seems nothing against it, and probability rather in its 
favour. That verse in St. Peter, to which you refer, certainly 
strengthens the idea ; for the disciples are permitted in so many 
ways to follow their Master. 

' It is thus possible that, while you are weeping for your darling, if 
your eyes were opened, you might see him the bright, joyful centre of 
a little group of spirits of Indian children,^ repeating to them the 
lessons which he first learned from you, but which he would now 
know better — oh, how much better ! — than you could ever teach him. 
I am sure that you would not wish to take him back again to pain 
and weakness from such an occupation.' 

1 The two chief interests of Otho Hamilton in his short life were — Natural 
History, and Missions among the Heathen. This is doubtless in reference to the 
latter. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 145 

TO THE SAME. 

'April 14, 1868. 

' My own sweet Laura,— I feel that this month must be full of 
heavy recollections to you ; and oh, it is hard to have a bright face to 
hide a bleeding heart. I hope that you will not put any restraint upon 
yourself with me. . . . Easter has its peculiar message of hope and 
joy to the mourner. Nature, bursting into new life and beauty, 
repeats the message, gives it to us as it were in an illumination of 
green leaves and bright blossoms. The Church says, " Christ is risen 
indeed!" — and all around us joyfully adds, "And we shall rise 
again ! " Your parting with your boy is over ; now only the meeting 
is before you. The shadows fall behind ; the glowing sunshine is in 
front.' . 



K 



CHAPTER XII 

A.D. 1868-1872 

THE OLD HOME BROKEN UP 

One letter at about this time gives particulars of how 
Charlotte tried to influence, not without results, a poor 
Roman Catholic woman, whom she came across in the 
Infirmary. Another makes allusion to the Ragged Schools 
and their work, in which she was always greatly interested. 
Yet another contains the answer to an inquiry from a niece 
about a book which should be bought, probably for a 
gift. The suggested choice ranges between Sir Walter 
Scott, Felicia Hemans, Jean Ingelow, the Author of The 
ScJionberg-Cotta Faviily, and Miss Sewell, — a rather curious 
mixture. 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'July-], 1868. 
' I met a mole the other day in a field. It did not attempt to 
get away, but let me stroke it ; and had I chosen I could easily 
have taken it up in my hand. This seems quite a country for moles. 
I have seen them repeatedly. I take a greater interest in them, 
from that book. Homes Without Hands^ which your father kindly 
gave me.' 

TO THE SAME. 

'Aug. II, 1868. 

' We have strange pets here. There are numbers of wasps ; I 

never saw so many at any one time, I think. They sting our poor 

maids in the kitchen, but behave in such a gentlemanly way in the 

drawing-room, that, instead of a plague, they seem a pleasure to 

146 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 147 

dear Grandmamma. She watches them, feeds them, admires their 

beauty, and calls them her babies. One got within Aunt C 's 

jacket, which naturally rather alarmed her. She drew the jacket 
off, and I found the wasp in the sleeve. It had been between it 

and C 's bare skin, and yet had never stung her. 

' I dare say that you are rather impatient to be settled in Firlands.' 

TO THE SAME. 

'Sept. 21, 1868. 

' On Saturday and I read my Castle of Carlsmo7it aloud to 

dear Grandmamma. I have been amused at 's little criticisms, 

and shall like to knovv' how far yours agree with hers, if you read 

my Tragedy. says that " Clara is rather stupid " ; that she 

likes Agnes best. " I have rather a sneaking likeness for Agnes," 
says she. She says that the ending disappoints her ; she would 
cut off the last page and the four preceding lines, which would 
completely alter the whole ending. The ending stood originally 
just as she would have it ; but years afterwards I added the page 
and four lines, which / think an improvement. 

'Tell me frankly what you think, and whether you approve of 
the style of binding. You remember when I talked to you about 
the Tragedy, as we sat together in the garden. The two things 
that occurred to you were, — how could I get the work, when printed, 
sold\ and that people would not like it in pamphlet shape. ^Messrs. 
Nelson have obviated the first difficulty ; and by having covers put 
on by the Jewish Society, I have obviated the second. I am sure 
my wee book will have your good wishes, dear, that it may bring 
in a little sum to dear Auntie Fanny's Mission purse. 

'You will wonder what has become of that work of mine, of which 
I read part to you last year. I can only warn you, my dear Leila, 
when you write a story, don't call it On the IVay, — for it seems 
to be always on the way, and never to arrive. 

' What a long note I have written ! Pay me back by a review 
of my Tragedy, and be as blunt as ever you like ; for if you tell me 
that my poor lady is " very stupid," instead of " rather stupid," you 
will only make me smile,' 

TO THE SAME. 

'Fed. 4, 1869. 
' It is only fair that I should send you a long account of the 
wedding.^ I thought that I should be the first of the party in 

1 Marriage of Miss Bella Frances Tucker to her cousin, the Rev. James Boswell. 



148 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

church, for I went early ; but I was mistaken. Gradually a large 
family party gathered. . . . There was a good deal of how-d'ye- 
doing and kissing and that kind of thing, before the word was 
heard, " The bride is coming." 

' Dear Bella looked nice and sweet, leaning on the arm of her 
father. A large Honiton lace veil fell over her pure white silk 
dress ; her lovely hair plaited, instead of made into an ugly chignon, 
appeared graceful under the white wreath, from which a spray 
drooped down her neck. I did not think the bridesmaids looking 
picturesque ; there was too square a look about the purple trimming 
of their white alpacas. The bridegroom and bride stood side by 
side. I could see Bella's profile distinctly, and could hear every 
sentence, both when James and when she repeated their vows. . . . 
There was no crying that I could see. . . . You know that there were 
eight little children present, four little boys and four little girls. 
Some of them were given flowers from an ornamental basket, to 
strew in the path of the bride, as her husband led her down the 
aisle.' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

''Ju7ie 12, 1869. 

' Sweet Grandmamma continues much the same, — serene, — with- 
out pain, not exactly ill, but so delicate that she is still carried up 
and down stairs, and sees none of the family but Aunt Clara and 
myself, and only a little of me. . . . Dear Grandmamma sent for 
me while I was writing the above ; and to my surprise I found her, 
pen in hand, busy with a note to welcome Uncle Willy. I am much 
pleased that she should send him one, though I should not have 
thought of asking her to make so great an effort. Of course the 
note is very short.' 

TO THE SAME. 

''July 10, 1869. 

' My heart should be full of thankfulness, for to-day dear Aunt 
Fanny was able to pay her first visit here to see Grandmamma. 
Uncle and Aunt St. George ^ drove her here in their pony-chaise ; 
and she had quite enjoyed the drive. I thought Aunt Fanny 
decidedly better ; but dear Grandmamma — who has scarcely realised 
the severity of her late illness, — said to me, with evident disappoint- 

1 Mr. St George Tucker retired this year (1869) from the Indian Civil Service ; 
and his sister Fanny was at this time paying a long visit to him and his wife. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 149 

ment, " I was surprised to see my own Fanny look so pallid. I 
think she looks worse than I do." This is true ; but then the fact 
is that Grandmamma's lovely pink and white complexion often 
makes her look stronger than she is. . . . 

' Uncle St. George has given me such a lovely piano-piece. Grand- 
mamma likes me to play it through every day, or I should be in- 
clined to lend it to your dearest Mother. It would remind her so 
of the dear Ancient Concerts, the delight of our youth, and of good 
old Mrs. Burrough. It is Gliick's music, arranged by Calcott, from 
Half-Hours luith the Best Composers^ published by Lonsdale. The 
piece commences with the delightful chorus of Furies, Cerberus 
barking, etc., which your dear Mother may remember. 

' I am ashamed of such an untidy scrawl as this. I do not know 
how that blot on the first page made its appearance. Of course the 
writer was not to blame ! . . . I could chat much longer with you, 
dear one, but I have other notes to write ; and my pen, or ink, or 
paper, or something or other, will go wrong to-night, so as to make 
the act of writing irksome, as well as the note untidy.' 

Another heavy blow, not less heavy because sooner or 
later inevitable, was now drawing very near. Mrs. Tucker, 
who had reached the age of eighty, had of late failed 
steadily ; and Charlotte must have seen that this dear 
Mother was soon to pass away from their midst. Before 
the close of July the call came ; and already every word 
that she spoke was treasured up by her daughter, as may 
be seen in the following letter : — 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''July 12, 1869. 

' So many thanks to my beloved Laura for her valuable and 
gratifying gift, which reaches me to-day. Dear Mother has heard 
your sweet music twice over already, and both she and Clara admire 
it. So do I. I wish that your song were published, that more 
might benefit from it. I am pleased that you occupy yourself in 
composing, love. I dare say Mother will often ask for her Laura's 
song. "Is not she a darling?" exclaimed Mother to-day. 

' I not unfrequently sing, " Hark, my soul," to sweet Mamma. It 
is better to go over and over the same than to give much variety, 
though I sometimes sing "Rock of Ages" also. I heard Mother 



ISO THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

saying to herself one day, "Jesus speaks, and speaks to me" ; and 
she once observed of that hymn, "That takes one to heaven." 

' Dear Mother is much the same ; not ill ; with no fever, no pain ; 
just very delicate and weak. She was so particularly sweet yester- 
day, Sunday. She looked lovely sitting by the large open window, 
with a light gauze veil to keep off the flies. Mother said that it 
had been " a holy day " — " a solemn day," — and twice asked me to 
read the Bible to her. . . . Once after waking she observed that 
she felt " between Heaven and earth." Mother has repeatedly 
alluded to her dream of being in Heaven with Mrs. Thornhill ; and 
often talks of her father, — " such a holy man ! " 

' She said yesterday, " I have been dreaming." I observed, " I 
hope they were pleasant dreams." " Mostly prayerful," was her 
reply. . . , She is very serene and peaceful, which is such a mercy.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'July 24, 1869. 
' Beloved Laura, —So tenderly and so gently the Lord has 
dealt with our sweetest Mother ! She woke this morning, and told 
Cousins that she herself had slept too long. There was a slight 
feeling of sickness about eight, which made Cousins call poor Clara. 
In about an hour she gently fell asleep. . . . No pain nor even con- 
sciousness at the last. I had gone to London on business, as you 
know. I was telegraphed to ; but ere I arrived she — the sweet, the 
beloved — was where she had wished to be. O Laura, Laura, she 
has long been drinking the dregs of life, however sweetened by 
affection. I felt for her. But I seem as if I could hardly write 
connectedly. All the three dear brothers have been here. St. George 
still is here. Poor dear Fanny also, — she is to have my room, for 
she is so thankful to be here. We have, however, only been allowed 
one very brief glimpse and kiss of the revered remains. Ofily 
remains, my Laura. Think of her bliss ! She is not here. . . . 
Your fond C. M. T.' 

In Charlotte's desk, kept as one of her greatest treasures, 
and found there, years later, after her own death, was the 
last note ever written to her by Mrs. Tucker. It con- 
tained these words — ' My precious Charlotte, you have been 
such a comfort to uie I ' No wonder the loving utterance 
was treasured up by the daughter through the rest of her 
life. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 151 

During forty-eight years Charlotte Tucker had known 
but one home — No. 3 Upper Portland Place. Now at 
length in her forty-ninth year the inevitable family break- 
up had come ; and the dear home of her infancy, of her 
girlhood, of her middle age, could be hers no longer. 
No. 3 had to be given up ; and the sisters had to go 
forth into fresh scenes. The trial must to all of them 
have been great ; perhaps least so to the gentle Fanny, 
already on the borderland of the Life beyond. 

As a first move, Charlotte and Fanny went together 
for about two months to Sutton. An idea had, however, 
arisen of a home, at least for a time, with their brother, 
Mr. St. George Tucker, and his wife ; and the next step 
was to join them at Wickhill, Bracknell, in the month of 
September 1869. This was Fanny's last move. She was 
taken thither, from Sutton, most carefully by Charlotte, 
in- a post-chaise ; and the long drive does not appear to 
have materially affected her. Although by this time 
wasted to skin and bone, Fanny still kept about in the 
house ; spending much time in her own sitting-room, 
yet often coming down among the rest for a short time ; 
and during this autumn Charlotte seems to have chiefly 
devoted herself to Fanny. Before the close of November, 
however, the end of the long illness was reached. 

One day, when speaking to her brother, in allusion to 
her earlier good health and plumpness, Fanny observed : 
' My dear St. George, I have been imprudent.' She did 
not specify what manner of imprudence hers had been. 
Probably, like many another in a thoroughly healthy 
family, she had not soon enough read the true meaning 
of suspicious symptoms. During some four years past 
she had been steadily failing ; and the end could but have 
been a joyous release to one so ready to go. 

Thus blow upon blow had fallen between the years of 
thirty and fifty upon the golden staff of Charlotte Tucker's 



152 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Will. Her Father's death ; the death of Robert ; the 
death of Letitia ; the death of her Mother ; the death of 
Fanny ; all these one after another make a list of sorrows. 
Doubtless, tJie most keen and bitter losses which she had 
to endure were, above all, the death of her almost idolised 
Father, and the death of Letitia. No other pain would 
equal these, dearly as she loved her brother Robert, her 
Mother, and Fanny, until her own peculiar sister-friend, 
Laura Hamilton, should be summoned away. Mercifully, 
that blow was not allowed to fall until a very short time 
before her own call Home. 

Charlotte was not crushed by these sorrows. This is 
plainly to be seen. Although the wild spirits and abound- 
ing glee of her childhood were toned down, she was still 
active, still buoyant, still able to enjoy life. She sorrowed, 
but by no means as one without hope ; and if her life 
was shadowed, it had not lost its spring. As time went 
by, the spirit of fun and mirthfulness revived ; and the 
little ones in her new home could not fail to be a fresh 
delight to one who so greatly loved children. Even the 
earlier letters after her Mother's death are not only calm 
but cheerful. 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'Aug. 23, 1869. 

' I cannot help hoping very sincerely that Uncle St. G. may find 
a house near Bracknell, large enough to hold Aunt Fanny and 
myself, as well as his own party. Would it not be nice ? But I 
am rather guarded about setting my heart on anything of the sort. 
Aunt Fanny would like it very much. ... It would be like a haven 
to me. I think I know one young maiden who would not be sorry 
to have her old godmother within reach of a walk. But I am 
quietly waiting to see how things are arranged for me. ... I have 
to manage things for Aunt Fanny, as well as for myself, just as if 
I were her husband. It is very new work to me. I am not, like 
your dear Mother, accustomed to think and arrange about a mass 
of property.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 153 

TO THE SAME, 

'Dec. 2, 1869. 

' I hope that my sweet Leila has not thought me unmindful of 
her loving sympathy because I have not thanked her before for 
her note. I am sure that you have heard of us from your beloved 
Mother, who so tenderly shared my watch by the bedside of my 
heart's sister. O Leila dear, does not such a peaceful, holy departure 
show us that our Lord has indeed taken the sting from death ? 
Without Him, how terrible would be the dark Unknown ! — with 
Him, how bright is the valley ! 

' Sweet Aunt Fanny quoted to me not long ago, I suppose in 
reference to departure, — " When Thou wilt ; where Thou wilt ; how 
Thou wilt ! " I think that the last chapter which I read to her was 
Romans viii. It is such a long chapter, that I stopped at about 
the 25th verse, fearing to tire the dear invalid ; but she made me 
finish the chapter. 

'I went out of the drawing-room window before sunrise to-day, 
to gather flowers to make into wreaths. The gardener had not 
opened the greenhouse ; but I found much more than I should 
have expected in the beginning of December, — even rosebuds. 
The ferns look lovely still. A few days ago I made a wreath of 
myrtle. I thought it like an emblem of my own sweet sister ; 
sweetest when bruised ; with an unfading leaf; and a white, simple- 
looking, yet lovely blossom. 

' Good-night, my Leila. May the Almighty make you, my dear 
Godchild, as unselfish, conscientious, and lowly as was the loved 
one by whose grave I am to stand to-morrow.' 

Although the plan of living with Mr. and Mrs. St. 
George Tucker was at no time regarded as a permanent 
arrangement for the remainder of Charlotte Tucker's life, 
yet it actually lasted six years. For about eight months 
from September 1869 they all remained at Wickhill. In 
1870 they removed to Windlesham, in Surrey; and in 
the following year, 1871, they again moved to 'Woodlands,' 
at Binfield in Berkshire, nine miles or so from Reading, 
and only about two and a half miles from Mr. and Mrs. 
Hamilton's home, Firlands, near Bracknell. Charlotte 
had, therefore, from that time not only the interest of her 



154 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

little nephew and two little nieces in the house, but also 
of her sister Laura's children within three miles. The 
companionship of a very favourite brother and of his 
affectionate wife, together with these little ones, work 
among the poor, writing, and many other occupations, 
made her life still a busy and a bright one. 

In one letter written to a niece from Firlands, in 1870, 
she describes ' the rural seclusion of this lovely place. 
I am charmed with Firlands, and the groves of fragrant 
pine in which I wander every morning.' In another letter, 
dated February 1871, she says: 'I hasten to give you 
the good news that Uncle St. George has taken " Wood- 
lands " for seven years. I am so glad, and I am sure 
that you will be so also.' This was to her Godchild. 
Thus she entered upon the final stage of her English 
life. Before the close of those seven years Charlotte 
Tucker was in India. 

The following extracts from letters belong all to the 
two or three years after her Mother's death : — 

TO Miss LAURA V. TUCKER.^ 

''Feb. 10, 1870. 

' I took Sir Frederick and Lady Abbott ^ to-day to the Infant School 
at Bracknell. They seemed to be much pleased, and so I am sure 
were the Infants, as their visitors treated them with sugar-plums and 
lemon-cakes, in return for a number of songs. ... A translation of 
my War a7td Peace has been made by Madame de Lambert, and is 
coming out in the Musee des Enfaiits^ — under the name, I believe, of 
Le Soldat Aveiigle.^ 

TO THE SAME. 

^ Dec. 12, 1870. 

'A lady was here the other day, who has a curious taste for 
different creatures. She has had a slow-worm round her arm as a 

1 Daughter of A. L. O. E.'s brother, Mr. William Tucker. 

2 Father and Mother of Mrs. St. G. Tucker. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 155 

bracelet — has kept an oyster which seemed to know her — and taught 
frogs to come out of the water at the sound of their names. One day, 
when she was quite young, she showed an old gentleman one of her 
dear snakes, coiled up. He thought it an imitation-one, and said 
something about good imitations, — when the reptile began to hiss at 
him. 

' " O you horrid girl, it 's alive ! " exclaimed the poor old 
gentleman, forgetting his politeness in his sudden alarm and 
disgust. 

'Baby is now thriving nicely, and getting quite fat. It is funny to 
see her looking at the picture of the white kittens and cherries. She 
gets quite excited, trying to clutch hold of the cherries with her tiny 
hands.' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'May 12, 1871. 

' Many thanks, my sweet Leila, for your affectionate letter, and also 
for your kindness in going to see Sarah Jones. 

' My darling Letitia ! Notwithstanding all that has passed since 
she was last pressed to my heart, the sudden blow of her loss has 
left, I think, a deeper scar than any trial before or after it. I seldom 
mention her name ; and now my heart seems rising into my throat as 
I write of her. . . . 

' I feel tired, dear one, so will not write a long letter. I had a long 
business walk before luncheon, and then the overland letter to Uncle 
Willy to write, and a great deal of proof-sheet of the Lady of 
Provence to correct.' 

TO MRS. J. EOSWELL. 

''Nov. 13, 1872. 

' I am very busy, for there seems an almost endless field for work 
in making foreign wall-texts ; quite a new occupation for me. In 
Italy and Spain they will now be warmly welcomed, — India, Syria, 
China, Labrador, all offer openings. I feel it so gracious in my dear 
Master to give me this little work for Him, now that the power 
of composing seems to be taken away. I find delight in going over 
and over the precious texts, which I have to copy in various tongues. 
I do not think that I ever before so realised their sweetness. I tried 
to gild my own little works with Scripture truths ; but now I have 



156 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

pure gold to give to others, — without admixing with it any alloy of 
my own.' 

For awhile at about this time she seems to have lost 
almost entirely her power of writing ; the failure being no 
doubt due to the state of her health, or to re-action from 
the strain of all that she had gone through in past years. 
She therefore spent many an hour in painting texts in 
different foreign languages, on a large scale, to be sent 
abroad. 

The sacred poem which closes this chapter was wTitten 
in the summer of 1871. It appeared in a little volume, 
called ^ Hymns and Poevisl by A. L. O. E. 



A DREAM OF THE SECOND ADVENT. 

' I dreamed that in the stilly hush of night — 
Deep midnight — I was startled from my sleep 
By a clear sound as of a trumpet ! Loud 
It swelled, and louder, thrilling every nerve, 
Making the heart beat wildly, strangely, till 
All other senses seemed in hearing lost. 
Up from my couch I sprang in trembling haste. 
Cast on my garments, wondering to behold 
Through half-closed shutters sudden radiance gleam. 
More clear, more vivid than the glare of day. 
What marvel, then, that with a breathless hope 
That gave me wings, forth from my home I rushed, 
Though heaved the earth as if instinct with life, 
Its very dust awakening. Can it be — 
Is this the call, "Behold the Bridegroom comes !" 
Comes He, the long-expected, long-desired? 
Crowds thronged the street, with every face upturned. 
Gazing into the sky, — the flaming sky — 
Where every cloud was like a throne of light. 
None could look back, not even to behold 
If those beloved were nigh ; one thrilling thought 
Rapt all the multitude, — " Can HE be near.?"' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 157 

Then cries of terror rose— I scarcely heard ; 

And buildings shook and rocked, and crashing fell, — 

I scarcely marked their fall ; the trembling ground 

Rose like the billowy sea, — I scarcely felt 

The motion ; such intensity of hope — 

Joy — expectation — flooded all my soul ; 

A tide of living light, o'erwhelming all 

The hopes and fears, the cares and woes of earth. 

Could any doubt remain ? Lo ! from afar 

A sound of " Hallelujah ! " Ne'er before 

Had mortal ear drunk in such heavenly strain, 

Save when on Bethlehem's plain the shepherds heard 

The music of the skies. 

Behold! Behold! 
Like white-winged angels rise the radiant throng 
That from yon cemetery's gloomy verge 
Have burst, immortal — glorious — undefiled ! 
Bright as the sun their crowns celestial shine, 
Yet I behold them with undazzled eye. 
Oh that yon glittering canopy of light 
Would burst asunder, that I might behold 
Him, whom so long, not seeing, I have loved ! 
It parted — lo ! it opened — as I stood 

With clasped hands stretched towards Heaven ; my eager gaze 
Fixed on the widening glory ! 

Suddenly, 
As if the burden of the flesh no more 
Could fetter down the aspiring soul to earth, 
As if the fleshly nature were consumed — 
Lost in the glowing ecstasy of love — 
I soared aloft, I mounted through the air. 
Free as a spirit, rose to meet my Lord, 
With such a cry of rapture — that I woke ! 

' O misery ! to wake in darkness, wake 
From vision of unutterable joy ; 
Instead of trumpet-sound and song of Heaven, 
To hear the dull clock measuring out time, 
When I had seemed to touch Eternity ! 
In the first pang of disappointed hope, 
I wept that I could wake from such a dream ; 



158 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

Until Faith gently whispered, "Wherefore weep 
To lose the faint dim shadow of a joy 
Of which the substance shall one day be thine ? 
Live in the hope,— that hope shall brighten life. 
And sanctify it to its highest end." 

' Fast roll the chariot wheels of Time. HE comes ! 
The Spirit and the Bride expectant wait,— 
Even so come, Lord Jesus ! Saviour— come ! ' 



CHAPTER XIII 

VARIOUS CHARACTERISTICS 

In the last few chapters we have had glimpses of 
Charlotte Tucker's life rather from within than from 
without ; chiefly in reference to her successive losses, and her 
own feelings connected with those losses or with passing 
events. Now we will try to obtain a few glimpses of her, 
rather from without than from within; to see her as 
others saw her, not so much as she saw herself I do not 
for a moment mean to imply that the two views must be 
antagonistic. The view of a castle from within and the 
view of that same castle from without are totally different ; 
yet they are not in the least antagonistic. The one is as 
true as the other. 

In doing this it has to be remembered that A. L. O. E. 
was a many-sided and to some extent a complex nature. 
Hers was not a character to be lightly sketched in a dozen 
lines. Probably no character of any human being can be 
satisfactorily so disposed of; and there are complexities 
in the very simplest nature. But the main outlines of 
some people are more easily perceived, more ' consistent ' 
according to popular notions of character-consistency, 
than the main outlines of some other people ; merely 
because they happen to embrace fewer opposites. There 
were a good many opposites in the character of Charlotte 
Tucker. 

All people did not see her exactly alike, — partly 

159 



i6o THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

because of necessity they looked upon her with different 
eyes, and partly because of necessity she was not the 
same in her manifestations to all of them. Being a many- 
sided individual, one side of her became prominent to one 
person, another side became prominent to another person. 
While one friend remembers vividly her spirit of ardent 
devotion, and another recalls especially her work among the 
poor, a third pictures her sparkling conversation, a fourth 
her spirited games of play with children. While one has 
the strongest impression of her resolute sternness, her horror 
of evil and self-indulgence, another cannot speak warmly 
enough of her intense unselfishness and her unlimited 
kindness, and yet another smiles over the remembrance of 
her irrepressible fun. All these things were included in 
her ; but naturally not all these things were equally 
apparent at all times, or to everybody who knew her. 

Nor need it be supposed that Charlotte Tucker was a 
being all light, with no shadows. She was thoroughly 
human. There were shadows of course, — w^hat else could 
one expect ? — and she had many and many a hard fight, not 
in girlhood only, but all through life, to overcome her faults. 

Again, it is not claimed for Charlotte that everybody 
who crossed her path loved her. We do read in certain 
little books, of a particular calibre, about angelic heroines 
who w^ere invariably w^orshipped by everybody in their 
small world, without a single exception. This, how- 
ever, is, to say the least, uncommon ; and with one of 
Charlotte Tucker's strong personality it would be all but 
impossible. A very wide circle did most heartily esteem 
and admire her, did most dearly love her. But of course 
there were exceptions. In the course of her life some few 
with whom she was thrown failed ever to come within the 
grasp of her affectionate influence. But this was only 
natural. Everybody is not made to exactly suit every- 
body else. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER i6i 

Among some of her most marked features were an in- 
tense vigour and energy, an extraordinary force and vitality, 
together with great eagerness in whatever she undertook, and 
a burning desire to be useful in her age and generation. 
She was very resolute ; very persevering ; very affectionate ; 
reserved, yet demonstrative ; untidy, yet methodical ; ex- 
ceedingly anxious for the happiness of all around ; apt often 
to think people better than they really were ; generous to a 
fault ; unselfishly ready at all times to put her own wishes 
aside ; vehement and impulsive, yet never in a hurry or 
flurry ; unyielding, yet tender ; severe, yet frisky. 

Of course there were other natural characteristics of 
a different kind ; weaknesses not wholly mastered ; faults 
not entirely conquered. She was not perfect, — -who is ? 
The strength of determination would occasionally run 
into obstinacy ; the resolute manner could be a trifle 
dictatorial ; the very wish to help and please others might 
be carried out in a way which did not gratify. With 
all her exceeding kindness, hers could hardly be described 
as the true sympathetic temperament Opinions here 
vary a good deal among the friends that knew her best ; 
but those who at different periods of her life lived for any 
length of time under the same roof, will be able to recall 
certain instances of an absence of tact, a lack of quick under- 
standing of the feelings of others, which certainly never 
arose from want of a desire to understand. She had any 
amount of heart, of pity, of thought, to bestow ; but while 
feeling fully for others, she could not readily so place 
herself in the position of others as to feel entirely with 
them, to see matters from their standpoint and not from 
her own. The highest form of sympathy is a rare and 
subtle gift ; and it can scarcely be said that Charlotte 
possessed this gift. Still, if any one did bring a burden 
or a trouble to her, she would spare no pains to help and 
to comfort to the utmost of her power. 
L 



1 62 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

One direction in which she showed through Hfe a 
marked deficiency was in the housekeeping Hne. Both 
early and late she had always an intense dislike and dread 
of housekeeping. Whatever else she undertook, that was 
if possible a thing to be avoided ; and it seems to have 
been an understood matter between her friends and 
herself that anybody rather than Charlotte Tucker might 
be housekeeper. Probably she had an innate sense of 
want of power, an innate consciousness that she could not 
do the task efficiently. If compelled to attempt it as a 
duty, she would not refuse ; but she never took to the 
occupation, or overcame her dislike. 

Moreover, the gift of nursing was not hers. Although 
in a threatening case of scarlet fever she could be the first 
to offer herself as nurse, with entire unconcern about the 
infection ; although she shared with others the watch 
beside Fanny's dying bed, and later on the watch beside 
Mr. Hamilton's ; yet she repeatedly speaks of herself as 
no nurse, and alludes to her own want of experience. 
Experience no doubt she might have had, before the age 
of fifty, had her natural bent lain at all in the direction 
of nursing ; but the necessary gifts were not hers. She 
had not the reposeful air, the placid voice and manner, 
above all, the ready tact, which for good nursing are 
essential. Self-indulgence, laziness, cowardliness were 
unknown factors in her existence, and could never have 
held her back ; but here too there was probably an innate 
sense of lack of power ; and here too she never through 
life took to the occupation, 'as to the manner born.' It 
is noticeable also that, frequently as she would offer her 
services in times of illness, these offers were seldom 
accepted. Others doubtless knew as well as she knew 
it herself that nursing was not in her line. 

Somewhat late in life, when a friend, after hours of 
hard study, was endeavouring to rest, with a severe head- 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 163 

ache, Charlotte would bring her guitar, sit near, and 
sing and play to the sufferer. A gentle protestation was 
of no avail ; for so sure was she of her remedy, that she 
only supposed her friend to shrink from giving her trouble, 
and the music went on unchecked. This — which happened 
repeatedly — was done with the kindest and most loving 
intentions. Charlotte was devotedly fond of music, and 
she did not herself suffer from headaches. But it is an 
instance of the want of tact occasionally shown in small 
matters. The will to do good and to help others was 
abundantly present ; only she did not always find the 
right mode. 

It must not be forgotten, however, that, whatever her 
natural disqualifications for the part of a nurse might have 
been, she did in her old age so far overcome them as 
often to take a share in tending the ' brown boys ' of the 
Batala High School when ill, in a manner which won their 
loving gratitude, although she did not prove successful 
as a nurse to English invalids. 

One who knew her intimately has written the following 
short sketch, which is well worth quoting verbatim : — 

' I think one marked point, physical and mental, in her, was her 
tireless energy. Her very walk was indicative of this ; the elastic 
springiness of every step. Also of another point in her character, 
stern determination, — the resolute folding in of her arms and hands, 
as she paced along a road or up and down a garden, — drawing 
herself up to her full height the while, with sparkling eye and 
compressed lips. She was teeming with life and energy ; — whether 
it were over her favourite chess, when she would wait patiently but 
eagerly, thinking out each move ; or enjoying the small-talk of 
society, watching faces and reading characters, to treasure them up 
for painting in one of her forthcoming volumes ; or teaching a niece 
the beauties of sound and thought in the Italian of Dante ; or playing 
at some game of thought with young people ; or reading aloud one 
of her two favourite dearly-loved and untiringly-studied authors, 
Shakespeare and Boswell's Lz/e of Johnso7i. She was very sociable, 
lively, and threw her whole heart into the kindly entertaining of 



1 64 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

guests of all ages. Her eldest brother used to be very much struck 
with the unselfish way in which she bore any interruptions and calls 
upon her time. Even in the midst of her literary work, she would at 
once rise, leave it, and give her whole attention to any subject an 
incomer might wish to speak to her about. 

' Clever and stern, she was not one to be trifled with. Purpose 
seemed woven into all her liveliness ; and she tried to keep others up 
to her level.' 

Another writes, in reference to the time when A. L. O. E. 
was living at Birch Hall, Windlesham, with her brother 
and his family, in 1870: — 

' I had just arrived on a visit, and she came into the drawing-room, 
kissed me, and said, " I am Aunt Charlotte." She was not good- 
looking, but was always full of life. Her ready wit and charming 
conversational powers made her a welcome guest everywhere, and 
made many a dinner-party at her brother's house go off well. . . . She 
was always thinking of others, and seemed to count time spent 
on herself wasted. 

' I well remember a time when I longed to see Windsor and the 
Queen ; and Aunt Charlotte immediately said she was longing for 
the same thing, and gladly undertook to pioneer an expedition. I 
was far from strong, but could not wait for lunch in my anxiety to 
have a good place at the railway station, to see Her Majesty arrive. 
Having seen me and my young cousin safely placed. Aunt C. dis- 
appeared, and after a while made her way through the crowd, laden 
with cakes for us all, finally producing a glass of claret for me from 
under her cloak, which I was obliged to take then and there. Her 
enthusiastic loyalty made her enjoy the sight, no novel one to her, of 
our dear Queen, as much as any of us. 

' Our evenings owed much of their brightness to her presence. 
She could sing, — sometimes lively little songs, accompanying herself 
with the guitar. Her ear for music was so correct, that on one 
occasion she came downstairs from her room, to tell me I had played 
a wrong note in a chord of Beethoven, and the exact note I should 
have played. 

' Sometimes she thought of games for us. One was called 
" Statues." We each had to pose as a statue, suggestive of some 
subject, such as Melancholy, Joy, Fear, etc. Whilst she, personating 
a visitor to the sculpture studio, would try to upset our gravity by her 
amusing remarks on the statues. . . . She also invented a geography 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 165 

game for us, providing us with skeleton maps, and small round 
counters, on which the names of towns were printed. As these were 
drawn and the name called out, we had to claim them and give them 
their places on the map. Whoever had a map filled in first was the 
winner. . . . Sometimes we read Shakespeare together, each of us 
taking a part. . . . 

' I think things were only a trouble to her when she had to do 
them for herself Nothing was a trouble if it helped another. . . . 
Work for the Master whom she loved was her animating motive. . . . 
She was, I think, the most unselfish character I ever knew. She lived 
for others ; whether in the great work of her life, the use of her pen, 
the proceeds of which went to fill her charity purse, or in the simple 
act of leaving her quiet room, on a dull, rainy afternoon, to play a 
bright country dance or Scotch reel, and set the little ones dancing to 
vent their superfluous spirits.' 

These slight recollections are from the pen of one 
among her numerous adopted nieces. 

Another niece, not adopted but real, says : — 

* I think the first thought that would have occurred to any stranger, 
as regards her appearance, was the peculiar fashion of her dress. I 
remember her in the days of crinolines, standing straight and dignified 
in her plain dress, without the least attempt at fulness in the skirt. I 
should think it must have been always so ; her individuality and 
disregard of the world's opinion were so strongly marked.' 

This question of dress does not appear to have become 
a matter of principle with her. She was simply indepen- 
dent, and utterly careless of what might be said. She 
had not by nature the art of dressing well, and she 
' thought it a bother.' As observed by one of her 
brothers, ' Charlotte never cared what she put on. She 
never had the art of amalgamating the different parts 
of her dress ! ' In plain terms, her taste in dress was not 
good, and she did not take trouble to improve it. Nor 
had she the knack of putting on to advantage what she 
wore. Things that would have looked well upon another 
did not look well upon her. 

Caps were a trouble, and she was most grateful to 



1 66 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

any one who made her a present of a cap. She could 
not make nice ones for herself, and she disliked the style 
of bought caps. 

One little story of middle life days at No. 3 illustrates 
her indifference to what she wore. A friend was staying 
in the house, to go to a wedding ; and when the time 
came her bonnet had not arrived. Old Mrs. Tucker, 
knowing that Charlotte possessed a new bonnet, and 
knowing also that there was no fear of vexing Charlotte 
by the act, lent this new bonnet to the friend, to be worn 
at the wedding. Charlotte was then absent. But meeting 
the friend, either at the wedding or afterwards, she noticed 
the bonnet, failed to recognise her own property, and most 
innocently begged to apologise for remarking what a 
particularly pretty bonnet it was ! 

She had unconsciously a good deal of manner, and 
used certain gestures, which either were natural, or through 
long habit had become a part of herself One trick of 
manner was that of clasping her hands, as an expression 
of certain feelings ; also her head was apt very often to 
be slightly on one side. Seeing a young girl, upon 
Sunday, busily engaged in copying music, Charlotte 
Tucker sat down and looked earnestly, with her head a 
little on one side. ' People have different ideas about 
occupations for Sunday,' she remarked at length. ' I, 
for instance, would not copy music on a Sunday.' The 
hint, pleasantly given, was at once gracefully taken, and 
the music was put aside. 

Another time this same }^oung girl had been confessing 
herself very much of a coward, and regretting the fact. 
' Oh, never mind,' was Charlotte Tucker's consoling reply. 
' Some day, when there is real danger, you '11 flash out ! ' 
Perhaps she was thinking of the scene in one of her own 
little books, when a timid young governess confronts an 
escaped panther. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 167 

Once a young girl, at table, being vexed by words said 
in depreciation of a near relative, showed her feelings very 
decisively. A. L. O. E. afterwards put her arms round the 
girl, and said, ' Quite right, my dear ! ' 

Again, she had a mode of crossing her hands upon 
her chest, with a meditative air. Many recall this attitude 
as peculiarly characteristic of her. If she were thinking 
deeply, her hands would instinctively take that position. 

She was very warm-hearted, and, as one has said, liked 
' to make you happy and pleased with yourself.' Ever 
eager to see the best in everybody, she wore rose-coloured 
spectacles which now and then would lead her into think- 
ing of people much better than they deserved, and 
' disillusionment ' had to be gone through. Always 
endeavouring to see the best, she often saw more than 
the best ; and small harm if she did. At least she ensured 
thus the making of mistakes on the right side, instead 
of on the wrong. The common tendency is so very much 
the other way. The romantic side of Charlotte's nature 
would interfere with her judgment, and the impulsive first 
view would be erroneous. When she had had time for 
calm thought she generally worked her way to a sensible 
view of a question. But the tendency to over-estimation 
of others continued through life, and was perhaps especi- 
ally to be marked in her Indian Missionary work. 

In her religious opinions she was a warm Church- 
woman, belonging to the ' Evangelical ' school of thought. 
As she grew older, however, she became more and more 
large-hearted towards those from whom she differed on 
minor points, more and more ready to hold out a kind 
hand of friendship on all sides. This side of her appeared 
more distinctly, and developed more markedly, in India, 
than in her secluded English home. 

Both at No. 3, and in her brother's house, she was wont 
to read aloud her own stories to her young nephews and 



i68 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

nieces, for the sake of their ' criticisms,' and perhaps 
quite as much for the sake of amusing them. Some of 
the then children, now grown up, recall those readings 
with pleasure. 

Life at Binfield was quiet and regular. Charlotte kept 
up her habit of early rising ; and from eight o'clock till half- 
past eight each morning she would take her ' devotional ' 
walk in the garden, — hands folded on chest, head up, 
step firm and dignified. The impression left by her 
' dignity ' is strong, singularly so, when considered side 
by side with a step so springy that some describe it as 
even 'jerky.' 

Mornings were mainly given up to writing in her own 
room ; and little was seen of her, as a general rule, between 
breakfast and luncheon. In the afternoon she was always 
ready for callers ; and if not needed for them or aught 
else, she would go and visit the poor. On these rounds 
she commonly carried with her the conventional ' bag,' 
full of painted texts and tracts. 

Evenings were devoted to sociable enjoyments ; fre- 
quently to music and dancing. Charlotte was an adept 
at playing dance-music for her nephews and nieces ; and 
at Binfield she also danced a great deal with her brother 
and the children. It does not seem that she had lost any 
of her old light-footedness, whether or not she had had prac- 
tice during some years past. Sir Roger de Coverley, the 
Lancers, and the Minuet were great favourites. When 
the Gavotte began, the children stopped, for they could 
not spring high enough ; but Charlotte was able to make 
the most wonderful springs. This does not look as 
though her spirit were yet broken by all that she had 
gone through. 

Besides playing for the children, she would plan games 
for them, and would superintend charades ; and when 
they grew older she would read Shakespeare with them, 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 169 

often knitting busily all the while as she read. Singing 
too had a share in these sociable evenings. She still 
steadily refrained from going out to parties at other 
people's houses ; but she never failed to be present at any 
party in their own house, not only making her appearance, 
but contributine her utmost to the entertainment of 



'fc> 



guests. 

Her village work included visiting of the poor, and also, 
for a while, a class of big boys in the night-school. With 
the boys she was not successful. They were very 
troublesome and naughty, and she could not get hold of 
them at all. This failure is curious, in contrast with her 
after-success among the Native boys in India, those 'dear 
brown boys,' as she often called them. Western and 
Eastern boys differ considerably, however ; and no doubt 
the explanation resides in this fact. Also, an English 
ploughboy requires different treatment from a high-caste 
Indian ; but she was ' friends ' with boys of all castes there. 

In a letter to Mrs. Hamilton, written from Binfield, she 
says : ' The Curate is already a comfort to me personally, 
for he has taken my night-class off my hands. I have no 
scruple in letting him do so, for I believe it is far better 
for the boys. They were too much for poor old Char. I 
had seventeen last night, and felt my inefficiency.' And 
in another letter, soon after : ' We had a talk about the 
proposed Sunday School. I asked not to have boys. 
My feeling is that I am too old for them.' 

She was not too old, many years later, for Batala boys ; 
but plainly she had not the requisite gifts for managing or 
winning rough English village lads. 

A few recollections, jotted down by three of her nieces, 

may close this chapter : — 

I. 

'In 1869 she came to her house near Sutton ; but that sorrowful 
year to her did not leave much impression upon me, probably 



I70 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

because she was so little with us, and so much with her sister who 
died in our house. I remember her next in the summer of 1870, 
when my sister was born, coming into the nursery to announce the 
fact, and afterwards showing us the baby, assuring us that she was 
" as fragile as egg-shells." She played the organ in our little country 
church, and visited the poor, — on one occasion going out at night 
to administer a mustard plaster to one poor woman, who thought 
herself dying, and sent for Miss Tucker. . . . 

' As we grew older she would help us with our charades and games, 
planning wonderful card games herself, and ornamenting them with 
brush and stencil. It was she who introduced us to Shakespeare, 
making me love hirn as no one else ever could, and making us read 
him in parts. . . . On Sunday afternoons she would take us up to 
her room, in order that my Mother might rest in peace from the 
children ; and there we always spent a delightful time, looking over 
her dressing-case with its treasures, and listening to the histories of 
each trinket and curiosity, or messing with her paints. I do not 
remember that we ever felt ourselves to be in the way in that happy 
room. It was during this time that she wrote The Hau)ited Hoiise^ 
which thrilled me with so much horror, that it was not until years 
after that I learnt there was a spiritual meaning underlying the tale. 

' She was never ill, but always felt the cold extremely in winter, 
though she did not complain much. One day I came down to 
breakfast, exclaiming, " How beautiful the snow is ! " — when she told 
me how pleased she was that I could say so, instead of saying, 
" How cold'xX. is ! " When I was ill in the year 1872, she often came 
to see me, quite disregarding the infection of my throat ; she would 
play her guitar to me, or, as I grew better, would patiently guide my 
little fingers to the right places on the strings. She made up a 
pretty letter in rhyme, and sent it in a stamped envelope to amuse 
me. I do not remember her ever talking to me on religious subjects ; 
but her untiring energy and gentle patience made much impression 
on me. . . . 

'My aunt would never give way to us little ones when she was 
convinced that we were wrong ; and I well remember a prolonged 
struggle between her and my baby-sister, who was left in her charge 
one day. . . My aunt regarded the sin of drunkenness with the greatest 
horror ; she rarely mentions it in her books, and generally, where 
it is touched upon, she writes with the deepest pathos, as in The 
Great Impostor. She would only talk of brandy by its French name, 
and considered it dangerous to take Tincture of Rhubarb, on account 
of the spirit it contains. ... 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 171 

' My aunt would never have expressed disapproval of others, as 
many of the younger generation do, who are of her own way of thinking. 
Where she did not approve, she was usually silent. . . . 

' But stern as she was by nature, her intense love — the love of a 
strong nature — made her gentle to the weaknesses of others. She 
could not sympathise often with the weak, but she could pity and 
love. Long years of home-discipline gave humility, self-control, and 
gentleness.' 

II. 

' There are some lives that carry about with them an atmosphere, 
as it were, of influence and example. ... It was thus with " Auntie 
Char." We used to think and say, " How she would have admired 
such a deed!" — "How she would have grieved at such a want of 
courage ! " if anything mean or underhand were done. One knew 
beforehand what her opinion of the transaction would be ; at the 
same time her marvellous sympathy, so readily given, was the first 
sought in cases of bravery or of moral courage. . . , 

' She rarely "'preached" to one. I should say she rather suggested 
little things that somehow were never forgotten. The letter I, for 
example — when written with a capital letter — called for playful 
comment. Up to the last I would often count in a fearful manner 
the all too plentiful I's in my letters to her. . . . 

' My father remembers " Sister Char" as the life and soul of their 
nursery circle in Portland Place, — how in the gardens close by she 
used to lead their glees and songs. . . . We knew what a great hand 
Auntie Char was at games of all kinds. No one could play like 
her. She seemed far younger than any child present, and was quite 
an enthusiast in them, as in everything she undertook. No one could 
play half-heartedly with her. . . . 

' Auntie Char had a wonderful way of strengthening and en- 
couraging one to open out one's heart to her, and a great and rare 
capacity for putting herself in "her neighbour's shoes. "^ It was 
during a visit to us, in the May of 1875, that she acquired the pet 
name of " Fairy Frisket,' — the name of one of her own works, — 
owing to her marvellous activity. She would come home after a long 
day's walking, and run lightly upstairs, faster than we young ones 
cared to do. In many of her letters to me from India she playfully 
alludes to this pet name.' 

1 As a curious instance of differing views, another relative, who perhaps had 
had even better opportunities for judging, says : ''Not sympathizing ; most kind, 
but could not place herself in the position of another.' 



172 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

III. 

' She never seemed to care a bit to receive any praise for her 
books, and she never let writing interfere with any family duties. 
She was wonderfully sweet-tempered, but there was no weakness in 
her sweetness. If others were inconsiderate to her, I never saw her 
resent it. . . . Her unconscious influence was, I believe, much larger 
than she has ever dreamed. She was more utterly regardless of 
personal ease and comfort than any one I ever knew, but was ever 
ready to praise others. . . . 

' My aunt had a guitar on which she enjoyed playing as far back 
as I can remember, and on which she used to play to us with much 
animation and impressiveness, singing to her own accompaniment ; 
but I never remember her playing to herself for her own personal 
amusement. One of her songs I do not remember hearing from 
any one else. The refrain in each verse was — " Till green leaves 
come again.'"' . . . Another song that she sang took my fancy, — I 
believe it was an old-fashioned one in MS., — and she at once copied 
it for me, making time to do so amid the many things occupying 
her at the time. Most people would have let me copy it for myself, 
as I was quite a girl and had plenty of leisure ; but she never seemed 
to do things like other people. . . . 

' Nothing that I can say would explain how beautifully unselfish 
she was, how utterly regardless of herself, and thoughtful for others. 
She was one of the few whom one could most truly call iioble^ and 
yet so sweetly humble. I mourn her irreparaMe loss all the more 
for the long parting since she left us for the Mission-field abroad.' 



CHAPTER XIV 

1875 

AN UNEXPECTED RESOLVE 

It is not quite easy to say at what precise date the idea 
first seriously presented itself to the mind of Charlotte 
Tucker, that she might go out to India as a Missionary. 
Some years earlier, after the death of her sister Fanny, 
she had evidently regretted that she could not do so, 
looking upon herself as too old. But the question again 
arose — Was she really too old .'' That question Charlotte 
now faced steadily. 

The plan of living in her brother's house, never looked 
upon as entirely permanent, had lasted several years ; but 
various causes pointed to a change before long as probably 
necessary. In January 1875, Mr. Hamilton, who had long 
been in failing health, passed away ; and Charlotte seems, 
either in anticipation of the event, or directly after, to 
have had some floating ideas of making a home with her 
widowed favourite sister. Here also, however, there were 
certain difficulties in the way of an entirely permanent 
arrangement ; and meanwhile the thought of India was 
becoming prominent. 

Charlotte was now close upon fifty-four years old, — an 
age at which few women dream of making an absolutely 
fresh start in life. Some are and some are not elderly at 
that age ; but as a general rule no doubt a woman's best 
and most vigorous days are then over, and she is more or 

173 



174 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

less disposed for an easy existence. Many at that period 
can thoroughly enjoy travelling for pleasure. But to make 
a new home amid new surroundings, to learn a new 
language, to enter upon a new line of work, — these things 
after the fiftieth birthday have a somewhat alarming 
sound. 

Not so with A. L. O. E. ! For her these fifty years and 
more of quiet English existence had been years of 
preparation, of training, of patience. For her parents' 
sake she had dutifully held back, during the noontide and 
early afternoon of her history, from much that she would 
fain have done ; and though the latter part of her 
' afternoon ' had been full and busy, with freedom to do 
what she willed, yet even this was not enough. At 
fifty-four she stood practically alone, with no near relative 
entirely dependent on her kind offices. She was absolutely 
necessary to none. Had she been, she would not have 
gone to India. But finding herself thus unfettered, the 
thought came up, — Why not devote the Evening of her 
life to Missionary work ? Why not set an example to 
others who, like herself, might with advancing years be 
left free of ties ? Or at least, why not put the matter to 
the test of actual trial, and prove whether or not elderly 
women, and not younger ones only, might go forth to 
work among the Heathen ? 

There was the question of health. Could she stand the 
trying climate of India? Would she not be a mere 
burden on others ? — an additional care instead of a help ? 

Well, at least she could try. If her health failed to 
stand the climate, she could but return home. If she 
succeeded, she might be the Pioneer of many more, who 
would perhaps venture to tread in her footsteps. 

Had it been a question of going out at the expense of the 
Society's funds, the Society might rightly have hesitated ; 
but Charlotte Tucker had enough of her own. While 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 175 

placing herself under the authority of the Zenana Society, 
and obeying orders, she would pay her own way ; therefore, 
no risking of Missionary funds was involved. 

No doubt she was peculiarly well adapted for the 
attempt. Although thin and delicate-looking, she was 
distinctly wiry, with much underlying strength, and an 
immense amount of vigour and vitality. A woman of 
fifty, who can lightly dance the gavotte, with springs 
which a child cannot emulate, is not quite an ordinary 
specimen of advancing years. The failure of power which 
had followed upon the death of Letitia, lasting more or 
less during some years, had now pretty well passed off ; 
and there seemed to be good promise of a healthy old age. 

She was generally sound, with no especial delicacy ; 
she did not suffer from any tendency to headache ; she 
was not fussy, or self-indulgent, or dainty as to her eating, 
or particular as to personal comforts, or squeamish as to 
her surroundings, or shy in making new friends, or afraid 
of toil and trouble. All these things were in her favour. 
She was in fact no timid shrinking Miss Toosey, — dear 
little old lady that Miss Toosey was ! — but a fine spirited 
specimen of A middle-aged Lady of England, — well fitted, 
it might be, to become even then A Lady of India. Those 
who think of following the example of A .L. O. E. ought to 
possess at least some of her qualifications. Had a Miss 
Toosey, instead of a Miss Tucker, been the Pioneer of 
elderly ladies in the Mission-field, the attempt would have 
been a disastrous failure. 

Although the matter was not definitely settled until the 
spring of 1875, it had plainly been for some time in 
Charlotte's mind as something more than a bare possi- 
bility ; for during many weeks she had been studying 
Hindustani. She had, however, said not a word about it 
to any of her relatives, beyond privately consulting her 
elder brother, Mr. Henry Carre Tucker. She thought 



176 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

much, prayed much, and waited to be shown her right 
path : meanwhile beginning to prepare for what might be 
her duty. 

When at length she gave out her intention, as a matter 
already decided, the announcement fell among friends and 
relatives like the bursting of a bomb. Nobody had dreamt 
of such a career for ' Auntie Char.' 

The following letter contains her first intimation of 
what was coming to her sister, Mrs. Hamilton : — 

^ March 24, 1875. 

'My beloved Laura, — I do not know when I shall send this, for 
I hardly hope that when you know my plans for the future you will 
say, as Henry did, a month ago, " Selfishly I should be delighted," — 
but I hope that when you have quietly thought and prayed over the 
subject, you will not let your tender affection make you wish to keep 
me back from the work for our dear Lord for which I have for some 
time been preparing myself by hard study. 

' Years ago I said that if I were not too old to learn a new language 
I should probably — after sweet Fanny had departed — have gone out 
as a Missionary. This year the question came to my mind, Am I 
really unable to learn a new language 1 I find that I can learn, and 
the only real objection to my going is taken away. Yes, sweet 
Laura, the o?ily ?'eal objection ; for I can leave you rich in the 
devoted love of your children. Thank God, yoti are not lonely ; and 
circumstances might easily arise to make it undesirable that I should 
make a third or fourth lady in — perhaps — a Curate's dear little 
home. 

' I have not come to my present decision in a hurried moment. In 
the second week of February I made my Missionary project a sub- 
ject of special prayer ; on the 24th I had an important interview with 
Henry, with whom I had corresponded on the subject. He had no 
fears as to my health standing the climate, or as to my being able 
to learn the language. I began to learn it on the 14th February, 
and by many hours of diligent study have nearly gone through St. 
Matthew in Hindustani, besides making a vocabulary of more than 
three hundred words, learning by heart, etc. I have thrown my soul 
into the work, thankful and happy in the hope that the Lord would 
open my lips, that my mouth should show forth His praise to the poor 
Zenana prisoners in India. The enclosed, behig the two last letters 




LAURA 

About the Year 1871 



:>' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 177 

which I have received from the Secretary of the Zenana Mission, will 
show you how graciously God has smoothed the way for me, pro- 
viding an escort all the way to the place which I now think of as my 
home — Amritsar, 

' But you will say — " Why choose India ? Why at your age be not 
content to work in England ? " 

' I will give you a ^-^w reasons for my thinking it desirable for me 
to go to the East : — 

' I. In that corner of the Vineyard the labourers are indeed fear- 
fully few ; scarcely one to many, many thousands of perishing 
heathen. 

' 2. Not one Englishwoman in ten is so well suited to bear heat as 
myself 

' 3. Not one woman in a hundred at least is so free from home- 
ties as myself. 

' 4. There is a terrible want of suitable literature for Indian women. 
If God enabled me still to use my pen, intimate knowledge of even 
one Zenana might be an immense help to me in writing for my Indian 
sisters. 

' Do not grudge me, dear one, to the work for which my soul 
yearns. You see by the enclosed that my arrangements are made, 
and that expostulation would but pain me. I would have told you of 
my plan some time ago, only I feared to distress you when you have 
had so much of trial. But why should you expostulate, or why should 
you be distressed ? Is not Missionary work of all work the highest ? 
I only fear that I am presumptuous in coming forward ; but it seems 
as if my dear Lord were calling me to it ; and my heart says, — " Here 
am I ; send me." I own with shame that much that is unworthy 
mingles with my desire to serve the Lord in India ; but the desire 
itself has, I trust, been put into my mind by Him. 

' Cheer and encourage and pray for me, my Laura, that my Autumn 
may be better than my Spring and Summer — that the richest harvest 
come in the latter days. Ask the Lord to give me Indian gems in 
the crown which He has bought for His servants. 

'On the 28th February, at Holy Communion, I devoted myself to 
the Zenana Mission. But I am bound by no vows. I go out free^ 
an honorary Agent of the Society. — Your loving 

'C. M. Tucker.' 

Writing again on the 7th of May, she said : ' I have 
been formally presented to the Committee of my own 
M 



178 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Society, who were very courteous.' The Society was then 
known under the cumbrous name of ' The Indian Female 
Normal School and Instruction Society.' A few years 
later it separated into two distinct Societies ; one of which, 
' The Church of England Zenana Society,' Charlotte 
Tucker joined. 

As was to be expected, her new plan met with some 
opposition. Many who dearly loved her were most 
sincerely grieved at the thought of such a parting ; and 
others were disposed to look upon the scheme at her age 
as somewhat crazy. Small marvel if they did. Such an 
attempt had not been made before ; and the untried 
always contains unmeasured elements of danger and diffi- 
culty. Probably her unusual fitness for the undertaking 
was hardly realised as yet even by many of those who 
knew her best. She had not, however, the pain of opposi- 
tion from her best-loved sister, Mrs. Hamilton. ' It will 
be a sore pang to her to part with me,' she wrote to her 
niece, Mrs. Boswell ; ' but her feeling will be that she 
gives me to God. And to my great comfort she does not 
attempt to stay me.' 

Before going to India, she resolved to take another 
voyage — a trip to Canada, for a farewell sight of her 
nephew, ' Charley ' ; the youngest of ' The Robins.' She 
would have his brother, her other nephew, Louis Tucker, 
for a companion on this preliminary journey. Of its perils 
and pleasures Charlotte Tucker's own pen can best tell 
the tale. 

TO MRS. J. BOSWELL. 

' May 24. 

' I had more than an hour to wait at Paddington, but , who was 

with me, gave me a little lesson in Hindustani. P. E. did the same 
yesterday ; he let me repeat and read from the Testament to him, 
and then he read a little to me. I generally understood what he was 
reading when he went slowly. I am so thankful to snatch lessons in 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 179 

pronunciation. . . . Louis and I are, if all be well, to start in the 
Nova Scotia on Thursday, at one o'clock. . . . What a beautiful 
hymn there is in Hymns Ancient and Modern, "for those at sea" ! 
Not that I consider drowning a worse way of going Home than any 
other. As a lady said, "We cannot sink lower than into our 
Father's Hand " ; for it is written, " He holdeth the deep in the 
hollow of His Hand."' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

' Gresford, May 26, 1875. 

' I am almost packed, ready for my start to-morrow morning ; but 
I have a nice quiet time for a little chat with precious Laura. Loving 
thanks for your sweet letter. . . . 

' You wished me to see Dr. Griffith. I have seen him to-day, 
though not in the character of a patient, I am thankful to say. . . . 
The dear old man appeared to feel real gratification at hearing of my 
going to India as a Zenana visitor, inquired with interest about the 
language, — health did not appear to enter his medical mind, — and 
really affectionately gave me his blessing. I am glad to have it. I 
told him that I am fifty-four, and Dr. Griffith made nothing of it. 
Dear Aunt is so loving and motherlike ; but she sympathises in the 
cause, which is a comfort to me. It would have been very painful 
had she disapproved, — almost as painful as if my favourite sister had 
disapproved. Dr. G.'s visit really refreshed me.' 

TO THE SAME. 

' On BOARD THE NOVA SCOTIA, 
May 27, 1875. 

' I did not think that I should have had an opportunity of having 
a letter posted from Derry, but it appears that I shall. I am now 
quietly scudding over the Atlantic. There is not much motion in the 
vessel, which seems to me to be a very large one. There are a great 
many emigrants, but I doubt whether it will be easy for me to com- 
municate with them. 

'You who are so kindly anxious about my comfort will be pleased 
to know that I have a very fair amount of wraps, and am more likely 
to suffer from heat than cold, seeing that my cabin port-hole is never 
opened, and that the only way of ventilating it is by leaving the door 
open, — a thing not to be thought of at night, as ladies' and gentle- 



i8o THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

men's cabins are not at all in separate parts of the vessel. By-the- 
by, the latter part of that long sentence will not please you. I 
should have broken the paragraph into two. I have at present the 
luxury of having the cabin all to myself, and only hope that when 
we touch at the Irish port, we will take in no fair passenger to 
share it. 

' Now I think I will go on deck. ... I am perfectly well at present. 
The only thing I fear is using up my oxygen at night. I have had 
such a nice letter of welcome from Mrs. Elmslie.'^ 



CIRCULAR LETTER TO SEVERAL OF THE FAMILY. 

'June 5, 1875. 

' " Yes, you will see icebergs, plenty, more than enough," said the 
Captain to me on the 3rd. " This is an exceptional year for ice." He 
spoke so quietly that I did not at the time give full significance to 
his words. 

' But on the next day, the 4th, we beheld icebergs indeed, — I 
believe more than a hundred, and some, O how glorious ! Our 
eyes were satiated with beauty. Now a bold iceberg rose before us, 
reminding me of pictures of Gibraltar ; but this berg was all of snow,^ 
and, as well as we could guess, about 150 feet high. Then another, 
most graceful in shape, appeared, like a sculptured piece of alabas- 
ter, wearing a huge jewel of pale greenish blue ; this, from its pure 
beauty, Louis called "The Maiden." We turned from its softer 
loveliness, to gaze on that which I thought the finest iceberg of all, 
the ruins of some huge amphitheatre. 

' As we gazed, some of the bergs changed greatly in shape. The 
" Maiden " split quite in two. Fancy these glorious wanderers from 
Greenland or Labrador, with the sea-spray dashing against their 
sides, showing that they were aground ; for, as you are aware, the 
mass of ice below water is far greater than that which is visible above 
it. One could not but think, " What a mercy it is that we did not 
pass those large icebergs in the night !" Had our great emigrant-ship, 
freighted with 2000 tons of iron, dashed up against one of them, we 
should have gone to the bottom like lead. Nothing more would 
have been heard of the Nova Scotia^ and the more than 600 mortals 
on board. 

1 One of the Zenana Missionaries at Amritsar. ■ • 

2 Doubtless covered with snow. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER i8i 

' But the day was clear, and it was easy to give the bergs a wide 
berth. Every one's spirits rose. There was nothing but enjoyment 
of the beautiful scene, admiration at the strange sights before us. 
The sun at length sank ; but a few icebergs loomed in the dis- 
tance, and I had an idea that we had almost come to the end 
of the ice-tract. We had delightful music in the saloon, and all 
appeared cheerfulness and peace. Even when my attention was 
directed to strange dark objects on the ocean, which I could see 
through the round saloon window, no thought of danger came into 
my mind. 

' At the invitation of another lady I went on deck, where I was 
able better to watch the strange scene before me. Out of the ice- 
tract, indeed ! Why, we were in the very midst of thousands upon 
thousands of masses of floating ice, through which the vessel very, 
very cautiously as it were felt her way, sometimes stopping altogether. 
Strange to say, even when I heard the keel grate over ice, it was very, 
very slowly that I received the impression of danger. The night was 
exquisitely lovely, the stars shining gloriously. I could hardly have 
supposed that any star would have cast such a reflection on the 
smoothest water as Mars threw on the still ocean. 

' The brightness of the starlight, the quietness of the water, 
greatly added to our chance of safety. One felt that a watchful and 
skilful captain was cautiously piloting us, avoiding the larger masses 
of ice, though our vessel passed right over some of the little ones. 
I watched the tiny globes of phosphoric light which sometimes 
gleamed on the water, and the dark objects which I knew to be pieces 
of floating ice. There was pleasure in watching them ; for though 
reason at last convinced one that danger there must be under the 
circumstances, a touch of fear, or rather sense of danger, rather 
enhances enjoyment. 

' I was tired, but lingered on deck, till a lady came up to me, and 
suggested that we had better go below, as she believed that lights 
were put out at eleven, and if we did not go we might have to retire 
to bed in the dark. Down I descended to my cabin in the lower 
part of the vessel. Some of the passengers on deck had been con- 
sidering the possibility, on so fair a night, and with Newfoundland 
near, — for we had sighted the light on shore, — of our being saved by 
the boats, even should the vessel be lost. But we remembered that 
there were more than 600 persons on board. The Captain would do 
well, if he could manage to place half the number in the boats. It 
was clear that all could not expect to be saved. 

' When 1 went to my cabin, I was not disposed at once to go to 



1 82 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

rest. I knelt on my sofa, so as to be able to look out from my port- 
hole on the ocean and its numerous floating fragments of ice, seen in 
the starlight. Not only was the sense of sight exercised, but that of 
hearing. Nine times I thought that I heard the keel grate against 
the ice. I may possibly be mistaken in the number of times ; but 
the noise was distinct, and its nature not to be mistaken. At a short 
distance — it did not look a hundred yards — the clear, smooth sea 
appeared to be skirted by a tall hedge. It was not land, for occasion- 
ally I saw a light gleam through it. I asked a seaman afterwards 
what it was, — it was, as I suspected, a bank of fog between us and 
the coast of Newfoundland. 

* I watched till my cabin-light went out, and I was left in dark- 
ness, save that my port-hole looked like a pale moon in the dark 
cabin. I turned into my berth, but not at once to sleep. I lay 
thinking, reflecting on the possibility of feeling the vessel going down, 
down,- — and reflecting on what an easy death drowning would be. 
Still, I did 7iot really expect to be drowned. 

' The vessel stopped dead still, — I listened for the sound of pump- 
ing, or of preparing boats. I heard one— to me — strange noise, I can 
hardly describe it, between a blast and a bellow. I thought that it must 
be a signal, and I was not wrong ; for I hear this morning that it was 
the fog- whistle from the shore. It seemed to me that it was useless 
for me to rise ; if there were any use in my returning to the deck, 
dear Louis would call me. He would be sure to think of my life 
before his own. 

' After a while I went fast asleep, and did not awake till the bright, 
clear morning, when there could no longer be the shadow of danger. 
I rose, dressed, and went on deck. The sea was beautifully smooth, 
blue, and clear from ice, except a few bergs in the distance. I had a 
happy, thankful heart. 

' One lady had remained on deck till past three. She told me of a 
field of ice, and great masses of ice, through and beside which we had 
passed ; and she had seen the Northern Lights, which I am sorry to 
have missed. The Captain never slept till the drift-ice was passed. 
He was at breakfast, however, this morning, and I doubt not felt 
very thankful. I believe that he has had three anxious, wakeful 
nights ; but the change in the weather must have been a very 
great help to him. We had had such miserable dull weather, 
and such heavy rolling seas. Last night all was so clear ; and I 
saw the stars, I think, for the first time since our starting. Please 
pass this letter on ; for I cannot write over the same thing to all 
dear ones.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 183 

to mrs. j. boswell. 

' On board a huge River Steamer, 
June 9, 1875. 
' Here we are steaming up the St. Lawrence to Montreal. . . . 
Quebec is a wondrously fair city. . . . We went this morning to see 
the Montmorency Fall, a cascade where a great volume of water 
churned into foam dashes down a precipice 300 feet high. . . . 

'"June 10. 
' I finish this off in Montreal, a very handsome, thriving-looking 
city, with far grander buildings than Quebec : but it wants the 
dreamlike, exquisite beauty of its sister. More kindness meets us 
here. . . . Have you seen the account of the loss of the Vicksburg 
in the ice, just three days before we encountered the ice off the same 
coast ? Only five sailors saved ; not one passenger ! We should 
have gone down faster than the poor Vicksburg^ because of our 
heavier cargo. I should not have had a chance ; and my gallant 
Louis would probably have lost his (life), because he would never 
have deserted me.' 

Although Charlotte Tucker's Indian life lay still in the 
future, this seems to be the right place for quoting a few 
words from her pen, written after years of toil in the East. 
Her mind was plainly reverting to the voyage above 
described : — 

' It seems strange that the idea of an ice-bound vessel should 
suggest itself to a Missionary, working in the " glowing East " ; yet 
it is so. We, in Batala, seem for years to have been labouring to cut 
a passage through hard, cold ice, with the chilly bergs of Muham- 
madanism and Hinduism towering on either hand. But though 
channels which had been laboriously opened may be closed, the crew 
are by 7io 7neans disheartened. The worst of the winter is now, 
we hope, over. We see on various sides cracks in the ice. A 
Brahmin convert, brave and true, has been like a bright fragment 
broken from the berg, helping somewhat to throw it off its balance. 
The way is becoming more open, and there are tokens of melting 
below the surface of the ice. We know that one day of God's bright 
sunshine can do more to make a clear way than our little picks can 
accomplish.' 



CHAPTER XV 

1875 

BESIDE NIAGARA 

There can be no mistake about Charlotte Tucker's 
enjoyment of fresh sights and scenes across the Atlantic, 
or about the fact that increasing years had at least not 
dimmed her appreciation of beauty. Most kind and 
warm hospitality was shown to her at Quebec, at Montreal, 
and at Toronto. She was met at Oakville Station by her 
younger nephew, Charles Tucker, — the latter in ' a state 
of joyous expectation ' which had kept him awake through 
three previous nights. Then followed a welcome from his 
wife, in their ' pretty little home,' elsewhere described by 
her as ' a Canadian settler's little farmhouse.' 

While there, finding the life quiet, and plenty of time 
on her hands, she 'took to Persian characters,' as 'an 
interesting riddle to solve,' and also worked hard at her 
Hindustani, spending many hours over both. 

Also she insisted on doing in Canada as Canadians do, 
— making her own bed, and even essaying to accomplish 
some ironing. Perhaps the last attempt did not meet 
with brilliant success. She wrote home about it : — 

' " 'Though seldom sure if e'er before 
That hand had ironed linen o'er ..." 

the great matter is that the things are clean ; but I own I 
am glad that I shall have a dliobi in India.' 

184 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 185 

Another day she wrote to Mrs. Hamilton : ' The little 
maid here amuses me. She is very fond of music, and 
likes me to sing for her. She asked me — kindly — if I 
would like my boots cleaned, and as I thought that I 
should, the little dear cleaned them, and brought them to 
me to show off her work, — as a six-year-old child of the 
house might have done. She looks such an innocent 
duck ! ' 

An expedition to Niagara was achieved with much 
success ; after which she wrote to one of her aunts in 
England : * My nephews think me amazingly strong, and 
yet I have become almost a teetotaller. Except your 
little bottle of sherry, I have only tasted wine twice since 
I left you. How I did enjoy your lemon-juice ! ' 

Her glowing description of the Falls themselves, sent 
to Mrs. Hamilton, must be at least in part quoted. 
Though an oft-related tale, it may perhaps gain some 
freshness from her mode of telling it : — 

'Clifton House, Niagara Falls, 
'■June 22, 1875, 

' I must write to some dear one while the sound of Niagara is in 
my ears, whilst the impression of Niagara is fresh in my mind ; and 
I direct my letter to you, sweet Laura, knowing that you will let 
others see it. . . . 

' I have looked on the most glorious scene, I believe, that is to 
be seen on this planet. How can I attempt to describe Niagara.'* 
When I gaze on what is called " The American Fall," I ask myself 
a dozen times, " Is it possible that there can be anything more 
beautiful ? " . . . though I have only to turn my head a little to behold 
the "Horse- Shoe Fall," which is even more gloriously beautiful. 
The American Fall would make in itself twenty or thirty cascades 
that would delight us in England. O the sparkling rush of diamonds, 
— the white misty foam breaking on the picturesque rocks beneath, 
— the accessories so beautiful, — the cloud-like veil so transparently 
lovely ! 

' Earth here is so fair, with bold crags draperied with the richest 
foliage, that one could imagine her contending for the palm with 



i86 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

water ; but water carries the victory at Niagara ; Earth but serves 
to frame and set off her magnificence. If Earth be green, so is water. 
Where Niagara plunges over her Horse-Shoe-shaped rocks, the 
colour of the water is often brilliant, crystal-like green. Then as 
the river emerges from its veil of spray, — spray sometimes rising 
pyramid-like for hundreds of feet, — it assumes a deeper green, more 
blue than that of the surrounding foliage, but pure in tint. 

'A lovely, most verdant island. Goat Island, divides the two 
grand Falls, — or, I may rather say, three, for one glorious cascade 
is called Central Fall. In this exquisite island, and other smaller 
ones, you wander amongst silent shady woods, or stand so close to 
the rushing waters, that one or two steps would send you over the 
brink into the cloudy chasm below. Perhaps, Laura, nothing can 
better convey to you the impression left on me, than to tell you what 
was my repeatedly recurring thought. " If I had to suffer martyrdom, 
in no form could it appear more attractive than by being thrown 
over Niagara ! " To be launched into eternity, shrouded in that 
cascade of diamonds, would rouse such a thrilling sense of the 
beautiful and the sublime, that half one's fears would be swallowed 
up in something almost like joy. It w^ould seem ten times more 
horrible to be flung from a high tower on to the hard, cold earth. 
This is not a mere fancy of my own. I find that I am not alone 
in thinking that death would appear less repulsive at Niagara than 
elsewhere.^ 

' I have seen the many beauties of this place well. ... I have 
looked on the rapids above the Falls. They seemed to me an emblem 
of human life. Such a rushing, — such a hurry, — chafing against 
obstacles, — impatience, passion, excitement. Then comes the grand 
leap — boldly, almost joyously, taken, — the leap into cloud and 
mystery, — and below, the river emerges from froth and foam, 
comparatively calm. One wonders that it is as quiet as it appears 
to be after such a plunge ! 

' Yes, I shall never see such a sight again, till I behold the Great 
White Throne, and the Sea of Glass, like unto crystal. 

'We all wandered about yesterday, till we were too much tired to 
wander more. We had intended to sit up to see moonlight on 
Niagara ; but instead of so doing we separated at 9. I soon fell 
asleep, but I woke in the dim twilight, I suppose at about 3 a.m. The 

1 In a letter of Mrs. H. B. Stowe is the following passage, referring to Niagara : — 
' 1 felt as if I could have gone over with the waters : it would be so beautiful a 
death : there would be no fear in it.' — Life of H. B. Stowe, p. 75, pub. 1889. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 187 

opportunity was not to be lost. I washed and dressed, as much by- 
feeling as by sight, opened my Venetian shutters, and walked out into 
the verandah which commands a fine view of both Falls. 

' I was in utter solitude, under the light of the moon. Not in 
silence, for the sound of many waters is unceasing. I suppose that 
for thousands of years Niagara has been praising her Creator, as she 
does now. The sound is not at all noisy ; on the contrary, it does 
not disturb conversation, which surprises me. 

I 'I sang snatches of the Hallelujah Chorus, as I looked on the 
waterfall by moonlight. There was no distinct play of moonbeams 
on the water ; there was an immense amount of mist,— one felt as if 
looking down on clouds. Presently the clouds in the sky flushed 
rosy in the dawn ; the moon grew pale ; Niagara with her emerald 
green more distinct. I waited till I had seen the sunrise — it was not 
a very bright one — and then 1 retired to my room, and went to sleep 
again. . . . Solitude is congenial at Niagara. ... I do not care to 
write on trifling themes now. . . . 

'A thought came to my mind as I was resting just now. As 
photographs, however faithful, convey but a very inadequate idea of 
the real Niagara, so must our highest conceptions of Heaven fall 
short of Heaven itself. Who that has merely seen a photograph, 
or many photographs, of the Falls, can drink in the beauty of the 
living, bounding, changing, glorious miracle of Nature, which is 
beheld here ? Yet Niagara itself is but a bubble, compared with 
"the glory which shall be revealed."' 

Towards the end of July she returned home, to spend a 
few last weeks with her dear ones before bidding them 
a long farewell and going forth to her Indian campaign. 
Through all these weeks she does not seem to have 
relaxed in her persevering study of Hindustani, or in her 
struggle with the difficult gutturals which had to be 
mastered. Apart from this she must have had enough to 
occupy her time. Among lesser employments, she is said 
to have spent hours at a time in looking through her 
papers and letters — the collection of a literary lifetime — 
and consigning masses of the same to destruction. One 
cannot but wish that the destruction had been less 
wholesale. 



i88 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

The Dismissal Meeting of Missionaries was on the nth 
of October ; and two or three days later the StratJiclyde 
sailed. 

To most of her relatives the parting was a good deal 
softened by the conviction that Charlotte Tucker would 
surely soon find herself compelled to give in, and to 
return to England. One of her nieces can say : ' We all 
thought, when she left us for India, that she would fail in 
health, and be obliged to come home again. And so I 
could stand at the doorway, and watch her as she turned 
round in our carriage to wave her last good-bye, without 
any misgiving that it was indeed the last time that I 
should see that bright smile.' 

But her sister, Mrs. Hamilton, the loved Laura of 
early days, had a truer prescience of how things would 
be. Speaking afterwards to a friend about that day of 
parting, and about the intense, loving devotion which had 
always existed between them, she said : ' When my sister 
and I parted from one another, it was a parting for ever 
on Earth. My sister will not return to England on 
furlough, as other Missionaries do, for the reason that she 
could not again go through the pain of separation.' 

At the time little was said in letters about that heart- 
rending pain. It had to be endured, and it was endured 
courageously. 

So ended the fifty-four years of Charlotte Maria 
Tucker's English Life. She turned herself now, with a 
smile of good cheer, to the eighteen years of her Indian 
Life — the Evening of her days. Three-quarters of her 
tale is told, counting by years. Only one-quarter remains 
to be told. 

Fifty-four years of preparation ; and then the Evening 
of hard toil. Fifty-four years given to slow perfecting of 
the instrument ; and then eighteen years of use for that 
instrument. This was what it came to. Not that her 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 189 

English life had been without its uses and its fruits ; but 
the long, quiet home-existence had doubtless been mainly 
a making ready — or rather, a being made ready — for that 
which was to come after. The first was subordinate to 
the second. 

Was it very long preparation for comparatively short 
work? But the worth of work done does not depend 
upon the length of time occupied in the doing. We may 
better understand this if we think of our Blessed Lord's 
Life, — the Thirty Years of silent preparation and waiting ; 
and then the Three Years' Ministry. Each moment of 
His Life upon Earth bore fruit ; but none the less, those 
Thirty Years were mainly of preparation for what should 
follow. 

There are some who would not agree with Charlotte 
Tucker in considering ' Missionary work of all work the 
highest ' ; yet in one sense, if not in all senses, it certainly 
is so. The soldier who goes on a forlorn-hope expedition 
ranks higher in the minds of men than the soldier who 
remains in camp ; and the pioneer is counted worthy of 
more honour than the settler. 

We hear in these days many a careless sneer levelled 
at attempts to convert the Heathen, at the uselessness and 
fruitlessness of such efforts. Nothing is easier than for a 
man, sitting at home in his luxurious arm-chair, to flout 
those who go forth into heathen lands. And there is a 
certain trick of seeming common-sense in the arguments 
used, which sounds convincing. So much money spent, 
and so many lives sacrificed, — and for what ? Half-a- 
dozen converts, perhaps, in a dozen years, some of whom 
prove in the end to be faithless, while others are very far 
from being faultless saints. Is the result worth the outlay? 

As for the characters of some of the converts, we 
only have to look at home, and to see for ourselves what 
the average civilised and well-taught and highly-trained 



I90 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Englishman is — how very far in a large majority of cases 
from being either blameless, or saintly, or entirely faithful 
to his Baptismal vows. After that glance, one may feel 
less surprised to hear of failures among young and 
untrained converts, the whole pidl of whose previous lives 
has been utterly adverse to Christianity ; not to speak of 
the baneful effects of a surrounding heathen atmosphere, 
always present after conversion. 

But as to the main argument, — whether the result is 
worth the outlay, — I should be disposed to say at once 
frankly that, from a purely mercantile point of view, it 
certainly is not. Very often indeed the immediate results, 
seen to follow upon Missionary work, are not at all 
commensurate with the amount of money spent. Many 
a Missionary has given his time, his income, his life, 
his all, for the sake of no apparent results in his own 
lifetime. There have been grand men, who have toiled 
steadily on through ten years, twenty years, thirty years ; 
and at the close, if they have had any converts at all to 
show for their labours, those converts could be counted on 
their fingers. 

It may w^ell be that one man brought out of the 
darkness of heathendom is a prize worth fifty times — or 
five thousand times — the money expended in bringing him. 
But this would not be seen from the mercantile point of 
view. Neither does it touch the true gist of the question. 

A little story told of the great Duke of Wellington, so 
ardently admired by Charlotte Tucker, shall supply us 
with a clue here. Whether or no the tale it-self be genuine 
hardly affects its value as bearing on the subject. A 
young clergyman is stated to have one day, in the presence 
of the Duke, spoken about foreign Missions in the 
disparaging terms often affected by a particular class of 
young men. One can exactly picture how he did it, — 
the supercilious contempt of one who knew little about 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 191 

the matter ; and the careless looking down upon all who 
did not agree with himself. But the Iron Duke is said 
to have responded sternly : — 
' Sir, you forget your marching orders, — " Go 

YE INTO ALL THE WORLD, AND PREACH THE GOSPEL 
TO EVERY CREATURE ! " ' 

If the Duke did not speak the words, they sound very 
like what he would have spoken. It is a soldier's view of 
the matter, and it is the view which all true ' soldiers and 
servants of Christ ' ought to take. For this is no question 
of mercantile views, of business arrangements, of what will 
or will not repay, of so many converts more or less, of 
success and failure. This is not in any wise a question of 
results. It is purely and simply a question of Obedience. 
The Church generally is commanded to preach the Gospel 
throughout the world ; whether men will hear, or whether 
they will not. Individuals are bound to go, if called^ — 
and if not themselves called, they are bound to send 
others. 

All of us who are Baptized in the Name of the Father, 
and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, are bound to His 
Service who is our Royal Master ; and His orders we 
have unquestioningly to obey. Whether or no we can see 
the wisdom, the necessity, of what He commands to be 
done, makes no difference. We are but privates in His 
Army ; and a private has no business with an opinion of 
his own as to where he shall go or what he shall do in the 
time of war. 

When the * noble six hundred ' of Balaclava were ordered 
to charge the Russian guns, they knew the uselessness of 
the act, the certainty of a blunder ; but with that they had 
no concern. 

' Their's not to make reply, 
Their's not to reason why, 
Their's but tQ do and die ! ' 



192 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

And though with our Royal Master we have no fear of 
mistakes, the same spirit of absolute obedience must be 
ours, whether or no we fully see the reasons for each 
command. What would be thought of an English soldier 
who, on being ordered to some lonely and difficult post, 
were, instead of going at once, to begin to calculate 
whether it were worth while, — whether the cost and trouble 
of his going would be sufficiently repaid by results ? Yet 
such is the spirit in which certain soldiers of the Cross — 
somewhat faithless soldiers, surely ! — are disposed to regard 
this great Marching Order of our Captain and King. 

Another way of looking upon the question is embodied 
in certain popular ideas that, on the whole, the Heathen 
may be hardly worse off as Heathen than they would be 
as Christians. The less knowledge, the less responsibility, 
we are told ; and a good deal of cant is talked on this 
subject. Those who hav^e seen how things verily are in 
heathen lands, those who have witnessed the awful and 
desperate cruelties which there prevail, know what the 
argument is worth as to the present life. While as to the 
future, — let it be fully granted that ignorance means few 
stripes, that every excuse will be made for those who did 
not and could not know better, that increase of knowledge 
must of necessity mean increase of responsibility. But 
there again we come back to our ' marching orders.' If 
Christ died for the heathen, if God wills that they shall 
know the Truth and shall at least have it in their power 
to rise thereby to higher levels, what are we to dare to 
decide that they shall be left in darkness ? 

The whole question of our duty as Christians, on this 
point as on all others, hinges here, — Are we doing, or 
are we not doing, that which God wills us to do ? All 
theories respecting outlays, values, results, sink into utter 
insignificance beside this question. If we are called to 
go, it is not for the sake of honour, it is not for the sake 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 193 

even of success, but it is simply for the doing of the Will 
of God. If we are bidden to remain at home, it is still 
for the doing of His Will, — and that Will includes the 
spreading of the Church of Christ throughout the world. 
Those who stay at home can at least help those who go 
on this mission. 

In the matter of results very unreasonable expectations 
are often formed. The best results do not commonly 
appear at once, and may not appear for a lifetime. A 
farmer ploughs his land, then sows his seed, and then 
waits months for the harvest. The Church too frequently 
scratches the hard ground with an impatient hand, drops 
in a few seeds, and immediately breaks into lamentations, 
because no instantaneous harvest springs forth. 

It may take twenty years merely to plough the hard 
ground in some heathen spot, and to sow the seed ; and 
years more may pass before the first tokens of a harvest 
are seen. Sometimes the fuller results are the longer 
delayed. Mustard-seeds spring up a good deal faster 
than acorns. 

The main work of Charlotte Tucker's eighteen years 
was to be that of ploughing. And whether few or many 
converts rewarded her toil is an entirely secondary con- 
sideration. They would have been very gratifying to 
her own feelings, no doubt ; and that said, all is said. 
Results there were ; but not all kinds of results can be 
reckoned upon one's fingers. Charlotte Tucker went out 
in obedience to what she felt to be the Divine call, the 
Divine command. So long as she was steadily en- 
deavouring to do the Will of God, results might very 
well be left in His Hand. The Word of God does not 
return to Him void ; but naturally its working is not 
always apparent to us. 



N 



PART II 



LIFE IN INDIA 



' O Spirit of the Lord, prepare 

All the round Earth her God to meet ; 
Breathe Thou abroad like morning air, 
Till hearts of stone begin to beat. 

* Baptize the Nations ; far and nigh 
The triumphs of the Cross record ; 
The Name of Jesus glorify 

Till every kindred call Him Lord.' 



CHAPTER I 

A.D. 1875 

FIRST ARRIVAL IN INDIA 

In the second week of October 1875, Miss Tucker left 
English shores, never to return. The voyage was un- 
eventful, differing therein from her trip to Canada. On 
its very next voyage the good ship StratJiclyde, which 
carried her to the East, went down within sight of Dover. 
But no threatenings of such a catastrophe disturbed 
A. L. O. E. on her way out. 

A fellow-passenger on board the StratJiclyde wrote long 
afterwards : — 

' My first introduction to A. L. O. E. was when I was lying in all 
the helplessness of the first days of my first voyage, quite unable 
to stir from the deck. I became conscious of a grey-haired lady 
stooping over me, offering some eau de cologne, and with a winning 
smile asking if she could do anything for me. She was a good 
sailor, and in those miserable days moved about amongst the sea- 
sick passengers like an angel of mercy. Even then dear Miss 
Tucker looked very frail and delicate ; and one could scarcely 
have expected that she would be spared for eighteen years to work 
in all the heat and discomfort of India. One thing remarkable 
about her on that voyage was the influence she had over the men 
on board, — some of them quite indifferent, if not hostile, to religion. 
No one could withstand her genial, loving ways ; and it was a sight 
to be remembered, to see her gathering the young fellows round 
the piano, while she led off in some old English ditty.' 

Her own letters to Mrs Hamilton, while on board, are 

197 



198 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

cheery as usual, and speak no word of pain or longing 
for all that she had left behind ; indeed the very first ends 
merrily : ' Please give my kindest love to your dearest 
girl, and tell her that I have already hung up her famous 
bag. I hope that no ayah will bag it ! I could not resist 
the pun, bad as it is.' 

There were five ayahs on board, and she soon struck 
up an acquaintance with one of them, — a Christian ayah, 
— reading aloud her Hindustani Bible, and delighted to 
find that the ayah could understand what was read. ' I 
am bribing one to teach me,' she wrote. ' The ayahs 
ought to be glad to help ; for they, at least two or 
three of them, seem to regard me as a kind of supple- 
mentary nurse, and if they want to go to work make 
over the baby to me.' In the same letter she states : 
' We have a strong Missionary force on board ; two Scotch- 
men, the wife of one of them, and six Missionary ladies. 
We have not quarrelled at all ; but then, most of us have 
been sea-sick ! ' — again a little glimmer of fun. ' We lady 
Missionaries get on very well together,' she says in another 
letter. ' Very gentle and modest are the Misses A., "your 
pretty girls," as Lady I. called them to-day.' 

As to amusements on board, she wrote : — 

' Lady I. has started a game which dear Leila and Fred may 
add to their store at Christmas. She wrote something, missing 
out all adjectives. A gentleman went round and collected adjectives 
haphazard from the passengers, inserting them in the places left 
blank. The piece was then read out. It was a description of the 
voyage and many of the passengers. Of course nobody could be 
offended, because the adjectives came haphazard. But how your 
young folk would have laughed when, amongst other personages 
described, came — " Miss Tucker, oi 2i grandiloquent disposition, with 
other bouncing Missionary ladies."' 

About a fortnight later she wrote : — 

'A contrast to is Mr. S., the competition-wallah, probably 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 199 

the most highly educated man in the ship. I look upon him as the 
Squire of the Mission ladies. In his most quiet, proper fashion, he 
is ever ready to do our behests ; and he never seems to tire of 
hymn-singing. . . . He has evidently plenty of moral courage. The 
very funniest thing was that Mr. S. was actually present at the 
solemn conclave held by us six M. L.^ to decide whether we could 
conscientiously attend a second theatrical amateur performance, 
Mr. S. having bee?i the principal actor in the first one, which we 
did attend. It w^as as if Garrick had been present at a Clapham 
conference on the subject of whether it were right to go to see him 
act ! ! ! Mr. S. was very amiable and good : he had taken a great 
deal of trouble to amuse the passengers, and his part was perfectly 
unexceptionable ; but if we all absent ourselves next time I do not 
think that he will take any offence. I proposed that we should all 
sleep over the matter, one of my reasons being that I could not but 
feel Mr. S.'s presence a little embarrassing. On the following day 
we met without him, and decided that the question is to be an open 
one ; each M, L. is to judge according to her own conscience. I 
believe that we shall divide ; but this is not, we have agreed, to 
disturb the harmony between the M. L.' 

After a few days spent in ' bright, beautiful Bombay ' 
— these are her own words — she proceeded by rail with 
one companion to Allahabad. A pause at Jabalpur had 
been planned, but this fell through ; and they accom- 
plished the whole long journey of 845 miles without a 
break. Wisely, her friends had insisted on first-class, 
and she was none the worse for the fatigue. On the very 
morning of her arrival at Allahabad she could say : ' I 
had a nice warm bath, and then a good breakfast, and I 
feel almost as fresh as if I had not travelled 845 miles 
at a stretch, but merely taken a little drive. Think how 
strong I must be ! ' 

Later in the same letter, a long and cheery one, bearing 
no signs of fatigue, she speaks of Mr. George Bowen, 
an American Missionary, who had ' laboured without in- 
termission for twenty-eight years ' in the East, and who 

^ Missionary Ladies. 



200 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

was known among Natives as ' the English Faqir,' on 
account of his wandering and self-denying life. 

' He will take no salary,' she wrote, ' but has earned his own living, 
I hear, by teaching, supporting himself on the merest trifle. I 
esteem it a great honour that I sat beside him at breakfast at the 
Zenana Mission House last Thursday. Mr. Bowen looks quite skin 
and bone, wondrously thin, but not in the least unhealthy, but as if 
there were plenty of work in him still. He told me that he does not 
"believe in age." He seems to feel as fresh as he did twenty-eight 
years ago ; and yet at the beginning of his career he was so fearfully 
ill that his life was given up, and he wrote his farewell to his mother. 
As India has agreed so splendidly with Mr. Bowen, I asked him — 
as I generally do those who thrive in the climate — whether he drank 
only water. " Tea," he replied, smiling. He gave his opinion that 
to take stimulant here is "the way to have to leave the country." 
Almost all the Missionaries whom I have met appear to be water- 
drinkers. I am particularly delighted with the American Missionaries 
whom I have seen. ... I am ashamed of ever having had a prejudice 
against Yankees. I am attracted also by Native Christian ladies.' 

On her way up-country she came in for the wedding 
of a Missionary lady, and after her usual fashion she was 
most active in helping ; working hard at the making of 
wreaths and at the decoration of the Ludhiana Church 
porch. As the married pair were about to drive off, rice 
was brought to be thrown ; but somebody present objected 
to the custom for Hidia, as originally heathen, and liable 
to be misunderstood. ' Then the horses shall have it ! ' 
declared Miss Tucker ; and with two hands well filled 
she went to the horse's heads, and fed them, amid much 
laughter, in which she heartily joined. Her own descrip- 
tion of the event is overflowing with spirit and enjoyment. 
It is dated November 30. 

' I have just come in to rest a bit, and wash my soiled hands, — 
for what do you think that I have been about ?— at the express 
request of the bride, helping to decorate the church for her wedding, 
which is to come off to-day. This house is jammed full — that is to 
say, a good deal more full than is comfortable ; but the kind folk 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 201 

would not hear of my leaving till after the wedding, so I do not 
go to my home till to-morrow morning. Indian railways are regard- 
less of convenient hours. I, who was up this morning soon after 
five, must be up to-morrow morning soon after three. Of course 
I had to arrive here by starlight ; and on the same night there had 
been another arrival at one A.M. . . . There is a grand tamasha^ 
about the wedding. Every one seems pleased. It is Missionary 
wedding Missionary, and — perhaps I had better go and make my- 
self useful. . . . 

''Later. Oh, such a pretty wedding ! The little church fresh 
white-washed within, clean as a wedding-cake. The porch almost 
like a bower. A border of flowers on either side up the centre 
made a kind of path. Then the presence of the school-girls in their 
white chaddahs ; the number of Natives in their picturesque costumes, 
— both Christians and heathen, inside the church and looking in 
from the outside, — all made a charming scene. 

' But before we went to church, a Begum, a royal lady, grand- 
daughter of Shah-Soojah, came to see the fun. And only fancy, 
Laura, I was left for perhaps a quarter of an hour to entertain the 
fine old lady. Would not your Fred and Leila have laughed to 
have seen me, making gallant efforts to keep up conversation with 
my dreadfully bad Hindustani. I dashed at it, tried to explain why 
I wore a black dress when I had lilac and blue ones at Amritsar, 
told her that I had never been married, answered questions regard- 
ing my family, etc. The Begum laughed, and I laughed, for I knew 
that my Hindustani was very bad ; but I did remember always to 
use the respectful "Ap"^ to the princess. 

' Presently the dear old Missionary, Mr. Rudolph, appeared. The 
" pardah " ^ lady, on seeing a man, hid behind an arm-chair. But 
when I told her that it was " Rudolph Sahib," the old lady said that 
he was her father, and that she would make her salaam to him. I 
hear that the Begum is almost a Christian, and she can read. 
Wrapped in her chaddah, she walked with me to church, and stayed 
through the service. I was close behind her. When it was over, I 
managed to say a little sentence to her in rather better Hindustani, 
"The Lord Jesus Christ is here ; He gives blessing." The Begum 
gave a sound of assent.' 

Next day, the first of December, Charlotte Tucker 
reached Amritsar, — the spot which she fully expected to 

1 Show. 2 Honorary mode of address. '^ Pronounced //^n/a/?. 



202 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

be her home for many a year to come. But Amritsar was 
only a stage on the road to Batala, where her Indian work 
really lay. 

All who know aught of India know the name of ' The 
Panjab ' ; ^ that province to the far north, a land of five 
great rivers, where in Mutiny days so much was done for 
the preservation of our Indian Empire. Amritsar^ is one 
of the larger cities of the Panjab, containing a population 
of about 135,000 inhabitants, — Hindus, Muhammadans, 
and Sikhs. It is the Holy City of the Sikhs, and has 
their ' golden temple,' wherein they worship, and wherein 
also is kept their sacred book, the ' Granth.' 

Missionary work has been mainly carried on in the 
Panjab by the Church Missionary Society ; just as, in 
many parts of Bengal, Missionary work has been mainly 
carried on by the Society for the Propagation of the 
Gospel. Where the one great Church Society has 
obtained a footing, the other great Church Society does 
not interfere in either case, but goes elsewhere in the 
Mission field. It is greatly to be wished that this spirit 
of courtesy were more widely seen in the working of 
Missions generally among the heathen. During late years 
the ladies of the Church Zenana Society have come in as 
an additional help to the Societies above-named, — as true 
'handmaids,' alike in the Panjab and in other parts of India. 

The Mission premises are about half-a-mile distant from 
the City of Amritsar. A. L. O. E.'s first Indian home 
was here ; in a bungalow, surrounded by a large com- 
pound or garden which was part of the Mission premises. 
When she arrived, in the beginning of December, roses 
were in full bloom, as well as abundantly-flowering shrubs 
and creepers. The great banyan-tree, which grew and still 
grows in front of the bungalow, was soon named by Miss 
Tucker ' The Mission Tree.' 

1 Pronounced Punjab. 2 Pronounced Uiiiritsar. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 203 

A warm welcome was given to her by the Missionary 
ladies living there : — Miss Emily Wauton, who still labours 
on in the same spot, though nearly twenty years have 
passed since that day ; Mrs. Elmslie, widow of Dr. 
Elmslie, the Pioneer of Missionary work in Cashmere; Miss 
Florence Swainson ; and Miss Ada Smith ; — not to speak 
of the C.M.S. Missionary gentleman living close by. 

After her wont, Miss Tucker was very eager, very 
bright, very anxious to become immediately one of the 
little circle. That first evening, as they sat round the 
table, she said : ' I don 't want to be " Miss Tucker " here. 
Can't you all call me " Charlotte Maria " ? ' The ladies 
naturally demurred. ' We could not possibly,' they said. 
Miss Tucker's face fell a little ; then came a happy 
thought, and she brightened up. ' Call me " Auntie," ' 
she said. ' So many call me " Auntie." All of you must 
do so.' 

' But we cannot directly. We don't know you yet,' 
objected the others again. 

She was very much delighted when Mr. Rowland 
Bateman, one of the Missionaries, began the same even- 
ing, without hesitation, to speak to her as ' Auntie.' 

Soon after, news came of the death of her brother, Mr. 
Henry Carre Tucker. It was needful to arrange for her 
mourning ; and pending the arrival of other things, one of 
the younger ladies offered to alter for her an old black 
silk dress which she had. Going to her room, the young 
lady knocked and said, ' Miss Tucker, may I have the 
dress now ? ' No answer. Another attempt ; — and ' No 
Miss Tucker here ! ' was the result. ' Unless you call me 
" Auntie," you will not have it' ' But how can I so soon ? 
I don't know you yet,' was once more the unavailing plea. 
Miss Tucker had her way, however ; and thenceforward 
she became ' Auntie ' to an ever-increasing circle of 
nephews and nieces in India. 



204 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Some extracts from her own letters, written to Mrs. 
Hamilton in the December of 1875, will give, far better 
than words of mine can do, the impressions received in 
her new position. 

*" December 2, 1875. 

' It is early morning, before 6 a.m., my first morning in my new 
home. A cock has been crowing, otherwise everything is profoundly 
still. I hear a cart in the distance. You will like to hear something 
of my surroundings. 

' Mrs. Elmslie came to meet me at the station ; also Mr. Clark and 
Mr. Baring. It was slightly bewildering, for, says Mr. Clark, "the 
Bishop wants to see you ; he and Miss Milman are to go off by this 
train." Now the thought most in my mind was, " I won't let poor dear 
Miss F.i think that I desert her for new acquaintances." She also 
was going on by the train ; but there was a pause at Amritsar station 
for perhaps a quarter of an hour. So I had to be agreeable to the 
Bishop, Miss F., and all, — and keep Mrs. Elmslie waiting besides. 

' This is a splendid room of mine . . . about twenty-four feet each 
way, and so lofty. I am surprised at the elegance of these Indian 
bungalows. Please put from your mind all idea ai hardship? I have 
now lived in four bungalows, and all have elegant rooms, and there is 
such an air of refinement that I have great doubts whether it would be 
the correct thing to put out my hand and take a slice of bread off a 
plate. Mrs. Elmslie is a lovely lady, tall, slight, fair ; but however 
tall, a lady every inch of her ; she might be a Countess with her 
meek dignity. . . ,' 

' December 9. 

' I directed via Brindisi my sad letters to the almost broken-hearted 
mourners, and I thought, " I will write no more by this mail. I 
should only write on one theme, my precious, noble Henry." But I 
have since thought that I was wrong in this determination. My own 
sweet Laura will be closing a heavy year. ... If I can turn the 
channel of sad thoughts, it is better that I should write, and not only 
on one theme. She will like to hear of my home and my work, and 
I ought to write to the darling ! . . . 

' What shall I say of Mrs. Elmslie ? She is one of a million. I 

1 Her travelling companion from Bombay. 

- Considerable allowance here and elsewhere must be made for Miss Tucker's 
habit of seeing things as far as possible couleur-de-rose. Large rooms in the 
Indian climate are, moreover, not a mere luxury, but a necessity for health. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 205 

never met with any woman in my life so like an angel without wings. 
Tall, fair, elegant, graceful, with a face that Ary Scheffer might have 
chosen to paint for a seraph, — her soul seems to correspond to her 
external appearance. Saintly as she is, she is not in the least 
gloomy ; she tries to make all happy, and is business-like and 
practical. Fitted to grace a drawing-room, she throws her heart 
into school-work, and seems to manage the house beautifully. It will 
give you an idea how winning she is, when I tell you that Miss Wauton 
and Miss Hasell call Mrs. Elmslie " Mother," " Mother dear," though 
the name seems strange from one who looks quite as old as herself. 
You should see Mrs. Elmslie with a black baby in her arms, looking 
at it with such loving tenderness and pleasure too, just as its guardian 
angel might. . . . 

' I must not fill up all my letter with my sweet friend, and it is nearly 
time that I should take my morning walk. I always take a rapid 
one in the compound, which is large, with a good many trees and 
nice flowering shrubs in it. I hope always to keep up the habit, 
which is so very conducive to health ; but of course I shall not walk 
so fast when the hot weather comes. 

' It may give you a little idea of life here, if I describe yesterday's 
occupations. 

' I rose about six, dressed, and wrote a little. My Ayah brought 
me early breakfast. I went out and took my walk, then returned and 
prepared for my Munshi.^ He is a convert, and was baptized last 
month, with his two little children. The Maulvi, as we call him, is a 
dear good man, but too indulgent for a teacher. He is not particular 
enough in correcting my faults. I have an hour with him before 
breakfast ; and after the meal comes family worship— the morning 
hymn, prayer, and chapter, always in Urdu. 

'After prayers yesterday I returned for a short time to my room 
and occupations. I was engaged to go to "the city" — within the 
walls of Amritsar — with Mrs. Elmslie ; for it is desirable that I 
should see work going on. The conveyance is a kind of large box of 
a carriage, contrived to let in air and keep out sun. Yesterday we 
went to four native houses ; Mrs. Elmslie went to a fifth, but went 
alone. Such strange narrow lanes one has to go through ; sometimes 
on foot where the gari could not go, mounting up to the first floor of 
the houses by very steep steps. . . , 

' We returned home after our city visits, and had dinner. Yester- 
day being Wednesday, after dinner we went to church ; we always 

^ Teacher. 



2o6 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

attend the Natine church. As the prayers are a translation of our 
own Liturgy, I can join in them well enough, but I can yet make very 
little of the sermon. . . . 

' I find it a good plan to go to Mrs. Elmslie's Orphanage, and sit 
and listen to the lessons, and thus learn myself The girls in their 
white chaddars ^ look, generally speaking, well and happy. I was to 
have amused some of the younger ones last Sunday with Bible 
pictures ; but when I had had the sad letters I gave up my intention 
of helping sweet Mrs. Elmslie in this way. I hope to do so another 
time.' 

''December 13. 

' I have so much to interest me here, and every one is so kind. 
... I call this bungalow " House Beautiful," on account of the 
dwellers within it. It is also a nice refined place, with an extensive 
compound, and plenty of trees and flowers. If I were not so busy I 
should like to send you a sketch of it ; but daylight seems too short 
for what I want to do ; and when once my mouth is really opened, 
I shall feel as if I never could get through all the interesting work 
that is to be done. The ladies here have a kind of general super- 
intendence of twenty-two schools — not Christian — but where they 
are allowed to teach the Bible. Fancy what an opening ! ' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

''Dec. 13. 
' There are some things in Indian life which would strike you as 
curious. For instance, I hsiM^five glass doors to my bedroom. One 
alone is never opened . . . but through all the others people, 
especially my Ayah, come in ; and she never knocks. . . . Folk can 
walk in from the outside of the house through two of my glass doors. 
It is a very public sort of living, but it is Indian fashion. The great 
thing is to let in abundance of air ; and where air comes in other 
things come in too. I have, however, "chick" blinds to my outer 
doors ; these are made of thin split bamboos ; and if I let them down, 
no one can see in. Of course they would not keep out my dear little 
Ayah ; she can always pop in by lifting the chicks. She is the only 
one who really laughs at my bad Urdu. . . . My Munshi laughs a 
little, but not in the same way. He is gentle and pleasing.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''Dec. 21. 
' I have been waiting to write to you till the tardy mail should 

1 Pronounced chuddars. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 207 

come in. But why wait any longer, when I have always so much to 
say to my Laura now? — only I lack time — and light — for this is the 
shortest day, and the houses are built to keep out light, which comes 
in underneath a heavy verandah, so that I am sometimes obliged to 
feel rather than to see. . . . 

' I did not open my picture-box for some time after my arrival, but 
when it was opened it would have pleased you to have seen the 
pleasure given by its contents, including your lovely tidies. Mrs. 
Elmslie was eager as a girl, settling where the different pictures were 
to be hung, jumping up on chairs, and keeping us up beyond our 
usual hour for retiring, for she could not bear to leave the picture- 
question unsettled. We had consultation, trying this place and that 
place on the walls, trying to balance sides and keep all things straight. 
For the angel-lady likes to have everything pretty. ... It seems 
to me as if both England and America had sent their cream to 
India. But then Amritsar is a specially favoured place. ... As is 
natural where the Missionaries are first-rate, there is a great deal 
of leaven working amongst the heathen.' 

TO MISS * LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'■Dec. 23. 

'Though I posted a letter to your sweet Mother only yesterday, 

perhaps I had better tell you of my visit to the Zenana of whilst 

it is fresh in my mind. Dear C, Miss H., and myself went to-day to 
visit this Muhammadan house. It is a handsome one, in the midst of 
fine park-like grounds ; and from the lofty verandah we had a better 
view of part of our city than I have seen before. 

' The Muhammadan Sahib has three wives. I suppose that they 
were the three middle-aged or elderly native women who sat on a 
bed ; the other five women present, old or young, may have been 
servants ; but one of them, a handsome girl, with very dashing nose- 
ring, and eyelids blackened on the edges, native-fashion, shook hands 
with us as well as served us. There were a fair number of free-and- 
easy little dark children playing about. The eldest is C.'s pupil ; and 
one of the first things done was to hear her repeat her part in a kind 
of catechism — Christian, of course. 

' One of the ladies smoked a hookah ; had it been even invisible, 
we should have been made sensible of its presence by an occasional 
bubble-bubble sound, and then a perfume — to our minds by no means 
odoriferous. Another lady had her teeth horridly blackened by what 
she had been chewing ; but, generally speaking, the natives' teeth are 



2o8 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

very nice and white. ... I showed off my beautiful chatelaine, your 
dear Father's gift, which I think pleased ; and Miss H. showed hers, 
which is quite different in style. You must not suppose that this was 
a mere visit of amusement. . . . No, we had Bible-reading and 
hymn-singing ; and afterwards C. was evidently holding a religious 
discussion with the elder lady. 

''Dec. 24. — I find that only two of the ladies were wives of the 
Sahib ; the third was somebody's relation. 

'Mr. Clark 1 approves of my Oriental tale, only he wishes some 
names altered. He is going to give me a list of names, Muhammadan 
and Hindu.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

' Christmas Day 1875. 

' I was awakened in the night by the Indian Waits, children singing 
in the language of the Sikhs . . . one of their native airs. My 
little Ayah came up to me and shook hands when she entered 
my room early in the morning, — is not this the great Day, and is 
not she a Christian ? — so she may indeed rejoice and be glad in 
it. I have prepared little presents for the dear ladies here, except 
C, to whom I gave a wedding-present yesterday. I will pause 
now, and go on later in the day, when I may better describe 
our Indian Christmas. 6^ a.m. Orphans singing hymns at the top 
of their voices. They are evidently very happy. They are to have 
a Christmas tree. 

' Later. — I have come home from church, from receiving the Holy 
Communion. Thank God, the sheaves are being gathered in ! 
What would dear Henry Martyn not have given to have seen what I 
saw to-day ? So many Natives remained to share the holy Feast, men 
and women, young and old, — in our little church there must have 
been nearly if not quite fifty communicants. I received the Cup from 
the hand of a Native. I felt the scene quite affecting. It is a great 
privilege to be in India, and specially now, when the blades are 
ripening, — though, oh, how few in number, compared with the 
Muhammadans and heathen ! 

'After church and luncheon I went to the Orphanage Garden, to 
help sweet Margaret^ to deck the Christmas Tree. In less than 
half an hour the little guests are to be summoned to receive their 
dolls, tops, books, etc. I expect a charming scene.' 

1 The Rev. Robert Clark. 2 Mrs. Elmslie. 



CHAPTER II 

A.D. 1875-1876 
A HOME IN AMRITSAR 

In the previous spring, when first Charlotte Tucker 
decided to go out, she wrote in one letter a statement of 
the financial plan to be followed. ' I have arranged with 
the Society/ she said, ' to pay 200 rupees a quarter for my 
board and lodging, exclusive of Munshi ^ and conveyance.' 
For this she had been told to expect a bedroom and a 
bathroom ; meals being taken with the other Missionaries. 
She had also been told that she would require an Ayah 
and ' half a tailor.' ' I do not want superfluities,' she wTote ; 
' for mine is a modest income, and I should not like to 
spend it all on myself 

Modest though it might be, she gave away largely, 
restricting herself to a limited amount, and practising 
great economy. After being for a while in India, she 
seems to have been strongly impressed with a dread of 
needless luxuries, and to have become eager to set an 
example of extreme simplicity in the Missionary life. The 
rigid simplicity which she cultivated was, no doubt, partly 
a matter of pure economy, that she might have the more 
to give away, — partly a matter of her innate generosity ; 
but partly also it arose from a deep-rooted desire to 
remove the reproach, which has of late been often levelled 

1 Teacher. 
O 



2IO THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

at the ease and luxury, real or supposed, of many 
Missionaries in India or elsewhere. 

It is always a difficult question to decide in such cases 
what does or does not constitute luxury. For example, 
the number of servants kept, which often startles an 
Englishman, is unavoidable to some extent, arising from 
the very low w^ages given, and the small amount of work 
w^hich each servant will undertake. Indian servants sleep 
often in the verandah or in outside huts, and provide their 
own food out of their small wages ; so, keeping several of 
them is a very different matter from keeping many 
English servants. Moreover, an Englishman, still more 
an Englishwoman, labouring in such a climate as that of 
India, must as a matter of simple safety have many things 
which in England would be entirely needless. To walk 
any distance under the heat of the Indian sun would for 
the ordinary European often mean death. To ' rough it,' 
to brave the climate, to be reckless of hardships, would in 
the majority of instances be tantamount to suicide. Yet, 
on the other hand, it may well be that under the guise of 
necessity some things not necessary have here and there 
crept in. A story has been told of an officer, himself 
a hearty supporter of Missions, who received a very 
unfavourable impression of one particular Missionary from 
observing the large amount of comfortable furniture which 
arrived at the said Missionary's bungalow^, for the latter's 
use. The officer felt at once, as he said, that the Missionary 
' was not made of the right stuff.' He may have judged 
hastily, and he may have been mistaken. It is by no 
means impossible that the Missionary may have been 
' of the right stuff,' despite his superabundance of home- 
comforts. Nevertheless, such judgments will be passed, 
and it is well if Missionaries can live a life that shall 
render them uncalled for. 

The more closely modern Missionaries can approximate 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 211 

to Early Church Missionaries, the better. One can hardly 
picture S. Paul as settling down in a very luxurious 
bungalow, with a very huge amount of luggage ; and 
though the conditions of life are greatly changed, and 
allowance has to be made for the change, yet the principle 
and spirit of Missionary work remain the same. Things 
harmless may become harmful, if they prove an actual 
hindrance to success in the work, if they cause an actual 
lessening of influence. The question should be,^not, 
How much may I allow myself? — but, .How little can I do 
with ? This was the question asked by Miss Tucker, and 
she set herself bravely, as the years went on, to test and 
to prove how much or how little was truly needed. 

On first arriving she had of course to do simply as she 
was told, — not always even that, without protest. When 
the first Sunday came, she was informed that they would 
all drive to church. Miss Tucker objected. She did not 
like horses to be made to work on Sunday. She was told 
that it was a necessity, but she was not convinced. She 
would put her large thick shawl over her head, and walk. 
Nothing could hurt her through that shawl ! Others had 
to yield to her will ; not without fears of consequences ; 
and Miss Tucker trudged off alone, with the thick shawl 
well over her head — heroically half-suffocated. When 
they all came out of church, she would not wait to be 
driven, but again severely marched off alone. However, 
the result of this was so bad a headache — though in 
general she never suffered at all from headache — that she 
was once and for all convinced. Evidently she could 
not do in India precisely as in England ; and from that 
time she consented, when it was necessary, to be driven to 
church like the rest. Of course this question of walking 
or driving depends largely on the time of year, as well 
as upon the hour at which the Service is held. As will 
be seen later. Miss Tucker never lost her habits of good 



212 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

walking until quite late in life ; and when the hour of 
Service or the time of year rendered walking safe, she 
always preferred it to being driven. 

Some friends who knew her best in India have been 
requested to jot down their recollections, and have most 
kindly responded. Certain ' side-lights ' upon what she 
was will be best thrown by quotations from two of these 
papers as to the beginning of her Indian career. 

Miss Wauton writes : — 

' I have been asked to put down a few reminiscences of A. L. O. E. 
in her Missionary life in India. But how shall I do it .^ It seems 
like being asked to help in painting a rainbow. We can hardly com- 
pare her to anything else ; so varied, so harmonious, so lovely were 
the rays of light which she reflected. Spirit and mind were as a 
clear prism, through which the light of Heaven fell, irradiating the 
atmosphere in which she lived, and which shone out all the more 
brightly when seen against the dark clouds of heathendom. 

'The first mention of her intention to come out to India reached us 
in May 1875. Well do I remember the evening when Mr, Clark, 
coming to our Bungalow, with a letter in his hand, said, ' Who do 
you think is coming to join you here as a Missionary ? — A, L, O. E. ! ' 
The title instantly brought to mind books such as The Young 
Pilgrim^ The Shepherd of Bethlehem, which had delighted us in our 
childhood's days. And now we were to welcome the well-known and 
gifted authoress into our house ! This 7uas a privilege ; and 
earnestly did we look forward to the pleasure of receiving her ; 
though at the same time we were perhaps conscious of a slight shadow 
of doubt crossing our minds, as to how far one of Miss Tucker's age 
would be able to accommodate herself to the new surroundings, and 
bear the trials incident to life and work in a tropical climate, 

' If such doubts did occur to us, they were soon dispelled by a 
closer acquaintance with the object of them. The letters received 
during the following months by her future fellow-Missionaries showed 
with what whole-heartedness she was coming forth, prepared from 
thenceforth to make her home in the land of her adoption, and to 
devote all she was and all she had to the grand work of winning the 
people of India to Christ, , , , 

' Miss Tucker reached Amritsar on the ist Nov, 1875. The warm 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 213 

kiss with which she greeted her sister-Missionaries showed the 
affectionate nature ; and it was not long before we felt that we had 
in her, not only a fellow-worker, but a loving and true friend. At 
her own request the formal " Miss " was soon dropped, and she was 
always addressed as " Auntie." The family of adopted nephews and 
nieces, beginning with three or four, gradually widened, till it finally 
embraced more than twenty members. Nor was this relationship a 
mere formality. It represented on her part a very special share in 
the sympathetic interest extended to all fellow-Missionaries, and on 
their side a reverential love and esteem, which in many cases could 
not have been deeper, had the tie been one of natural kinship. 

' She soon became known amongst the members of the Indian 
Church as the " Buzurg," or " Honourable " Miss Sahib ; and the title 
of " Firishta" or "angel" was not unseldom heard in connection with 
her name. And indeed ihey might well call her so. Every time she 
spent even a few hours under our roof we felt that we had enter- 
tained an angel, though not unawares, so bright were the memories 
she left behind in loving words and deeds. . . . 

' She was so considerate for servants, that she would, during the 
first hot weather, often stop her pankah-walas at two or three o'clock 
in the morning, for fear of tiring them. Her face and hands covered 
with mosquito-bites showed what she endured in practising this self- 
denial. It took a long time to convince her that there was no hard- 
ship in employing these men in night-work, seeing they had plenty 
of time to rest during the day. 

'A. L. O, E. lost no time in beginning to use her pen in the service 
of India. I think it was the very day after her arrival that she came 
to us with the MS. in her hand of a little book she had written on 
her way up-country. It was called The Church built out of One 
Brick; its object being to stir up the Christians of this land to give 
more liberally, and to work more heartily, for their own Churches, 
We were amazed, on hearing the little story read, at the wonderful 
knowledge which Miss Tucker had even then gained, or rather, 
which she seemed to have intuitively, of the people amongst whom 
she had come to live. She said, " I want to Orientalise my mind" ; 
but she seemed to have been born with an Oriental mind. Parable, 
allegory, and metaphor were the very language in which she thought; 
and her thoughts always seemed naturally to clothe themselves in 
those figures of speech in which the children of the East are wont 
to express themselves. 

' She always wrote her books in English, as there was never any 
difficulty in getting them translated into the vernaculars. Many 



214 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

thought that, on this account, she would not care to study the lan- 
guage ; but she had no idea of reaching the people only through her 
pen. She was determined, as far as it was possible, to use her own 
lips in telling out the message of salvation she had come to bring. 

' Accordingly, she was soon hard at work with primer, grammar, 
and dictionary. At the end of a year she passed the Hindustani 
Language Examination, and then began Panjabi. She learnt to 
express herself intelligibly in both these tongues, though the 
acquisition of them cost her many an hour of hard labour. 

' How she did toil over them ! I remember, when sharing a room 
with her once, waking about four o'clock on a cold winter's morning, 
to see her, already dressed, with a book before her, in which she had 
herself written in very large printed characters, that she might the 
more easily read them, a long list of Hindustani and Panjabi words, 
which she was busily learning off by heart. By this incessant industry 
she acquired a large vocabulary, and was also soon able to read 
intelligently many vernacular books, which gave her an insight into 
the religious life of the people.' 

The Rev. Robert Clark writes : — 

' I remember well her arrival, when she was received by Mrs. 
Elmslie and Miss Wauton in the Mission House. . . . We felt that a 
spiritual as well as an intellectual power had come amongst us. . . . 
Like the great Missionary Swartz, she never went home on furlough; 
and she never took more than a month's ^ holiday in the year, but 
remained at her post, hot weather and cold weather, sometimes 
eleven months, sometimes twelve months in the year, during her 
whole service. . . . 

' Her first endeavour on her arrival in India, as she said, was to 
seek to " Orientalise her mind." She noticed everything, watched 
everything around her, sought intercourse with the people, and tried 
to think with their thoughts and feel with their feelings, and to realise 
their position and circumstances, in order that she might bring God's 
Word to bear on them as they were. It was in this way only that 
she could hope to do them good. . . .' 

During the greater part of 1876 Miss Tucker remained 
at Amritsar, cementing her friendship with the ladies there, 
learning the Hindustani and Panjabi languages, studying 

1 Sometimes she would take a week or ten days additional at some other season 
in the year. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 215 

the ways of the people, and writing Httle books for 
translation into the Native tongues. At her age it was by 
no means so easy to master a new language as for a 
younger person ; — indeed, hard as she toiled, she never did 
absolutely master any Indian language colloquially, though 
for a time she became thorough mistress of the Hindustani 
grammar and construction. In later years much that she 
had conquered, with such hard and persevering toil, slipped 
from her again. 

Also, it was less easy for her, than for a younger person, 
to fall in with modes of work, so entirely unlike aught to 
which she had been accustomed. Her very warm-hearted- 
ness and impetuosity were now and then somewhat of a 
hindrance, — as when, on her first arrival, going into a 
Zenana, she pressed forward and eagerly shook hands with 
a bibi, — an Indian lady, — forgetting the difference of 
Indian customs and English ones. Had it been a 
Christian bibi, this would not have mattered. As it was, 
the mistake was so serious, that it might have resulted, and 
very nearly did result, in the closing of that particular 
Zenana to all further efforts. 

The letters home from this time are so full and so 
abundant, that the only difficulty lies in selection. By far 
the larger number are of course to her much-loved sister, 
Mrs. Hamilton. For the saving of space, it may be 
understood in the future that letters not especially stated 
to have been written to any one else, were written to 
her. 

''Ja7t. 8, 1876. — My expenses have been less than I expected. I 
think that Margaret must be a very good manager. . . I can now form 
a rough idea of my expenses, and I think my sweet Laura will like to 
see a rude estimate.^ As rupees and annas may puzzle you, I write 
in English fashion — 

1 Many Missionaries live upon less than ^^155. See next page. 



2l6 



THE LTFE AND LETTERS OF 



Board and Servants (there will be pankahs to pay for), 



Carriage 


pci dllliUlll, 


15 


Travelling 




25 


Munshi, say 




10 


Postage, say 




5 


Dress, etc., etc. . 




20 



^155 

'As I allow myself ^270 in India, you see that I have a nice 
balance to spend ; so you may be quite easy, and I quite thankful, 
regarding finances. One ought to thank God for independent means ; 
and I am very grateful to my honoured father also.' 



FROM MRS. ELMSLIE TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'Jan. 13. 

' I am sorry to have been unable to write to you sooner, as I 
should have wished to tell you how much we love your dear sister, 
and how truly she has already become an honoured and trusted 
member of our Mission circle. You know her gentle, loving, winning 
ways too well to doubt our soon learning to love and cherish her ; 
but I dare say you also know her unselfish character so well, that 
you will often feel anxious lest she should suffer on that account. She 
had not been one hour with us before I found out that it is her 
delight to be giving to others the comforts and honours which are due 
to herself; and it shall be my endeavour that she shall not lose one 
iota of anything that should help her, or of anything that is truly 
good for her. Being the housekeeper here, I can manage this. . . . 

' Her understanding of the language and character of the people is 
quite wonderful. I hardly think any one ever read character so 
clearly and truly as she does, — or so charitably. She sees good in 
all. And when she must acknowledge some blemishes, she finds 
some kind excuse for them. " Thinketh no evil " seems written 
on her brow. I believe she will do much for India, if spared ; she 
sees where teaching is needed, and her ready mind so cleverly weaves 
the lessons into sweet stories which, when read by the people, will 
do wonders in opening their minds. I hope she will be persuaded to 
go to the hills in summer, for this work, which is so peculiarly her 
own, can be carried on there as well as here, and at one-thousandth 
part of the expense to physical strength.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 217 

C. M. T. TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'Feb. I, 1876. 
' I feel as if one of my chief works here must be to try and keep 
up the spirits of my poor, anxious, overworked companions. I cannot 
possibly take much work off their hands ; but my loving, clinging 
Margaret seems to feel it such a comfort to have an elderly friend to 
lean on.' 

Towards the end of February Miss Tucker went, with 
Mrs. Elmslie and two Bible-women, on her first itinerating 
expedition, — not, as she herself said, to use her lips, but to 
use her eyes. Writing while away, she says : — 

' Behold us here, my Queen Lily ^ and I, encamped in the midst of 
a Sikh village, and living in a tent, without lock or key, with as little 
sensation of danger as I had at Woodlands or Firlands. . . . 

' It was indeed romantic to travel along that wild path by star- 
light. . . . Do you remember the well-known engraving of Una with 
her lion entering a witch's cave '^. Now, as I jogged along in my duli,^ 
while Margaret rode on her white pony, she made me think of that 
picture of Una. She is so fair, so graceful, so pure-looking, with her 
chiselled profile and her sweet expression ; I could not make out, 
however, anything that would do for the lion. 

' Dear Leila's most useful bag is now fastened up in our tent. . . 
Poor Sarah Jones' night-bag is on my bed ; please ask dear Leila to 
tell her so, when she sees her, with my kind remembrances. 

' Oh, a Sikh village is a curious place ; built of mud, and pretty 
thickly populated, it reminds me of an ant-hill. I wonder how such 
houses stand the rains. The people are not very dark, and they seem 
to be very friendly. It is not from rudeness that they crowd about 
one, and examine one's dress. 

' It would have amused you to have seen Margaret and me 
perambulating the village, going through its muddy lanes ; sometimes 
so narrow that one could have touched the walls on either hand, — or 
nearly so. Do not suppose that we walked alone. We had wished 
to take a quiet stroll together, but this was out of the question. We 
carried a train with us ; and when we had entered a tiny court, 
inhabited by four families, when I raised my eyes I saw a set of 
spectators perched on the wall above, like so many sparrows, gazing 
down on the English ladies. One had not in the least the feeling of 

1 A pet name for Mrs. Elmslie. 

'- Often spelt by English writers doli, dooli, or dhooli. Pronounced, dooly. 



2i8 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

being amongst enemies, — only once or twice I saw a man look sternly 
at us. I concluded that these men were Muhammadans, of whom 
there are, I believe, a few in this village. The Sikhs seem to be a 
good-humoured, friendly set, who have not the slightest objection to 
our speaking as much about our religion as we like. Some of the 
people here — like the Pandit^ — know Urdu, but by no means all of 
them. 

'But, Laura, you who have an eye for the picturesque, and a soul 
for the romantic, you should have had a glimpse of us yesterday in 
the Pandit's house, at evening prayer ! The long" mud-built room 
looked strange enough by day ; but at night seen by the gleam of 
one lamp, it looked — like the entrance to a cave or a catacomb. 

' There sat the Pandit on his large mat, and at a little distance 
his wife on a very small one, the dull lamp throwing their black 
shadows on the mud wall behind them. A black buffalo calf was at 
one end of the apartment ; but the place was too dark for us to see 
much of it. The Pandit bending over his book was a study for an 
artist, with his white turban and his extraordinary spectacles. I 
was asked to choose the chapter ; I chose Romans xii. The Pandit 
had such difficulty in finding the place, that it seemed evident that 
he is not familiar with the Epistles. But he must have been pleased 
with the chapter, when he did find it ; for he not only read it, but 
the one which followed it. Then came a long Sanscrit prayer.' 

''March 7. — One of the things most admired has been a prism, 
which I have as a letter-weight. The splendid colours which through 
it an Indian sun casts on the walls excite much admiration and 
pleasure. My little Ayah to-day asked me what my Zouave had 
cost. I should hardly call her my Ayah, as, luckily for me, I have 
only one-third part of the little woman. To have a whole Ayah 
would be too much of a good thing. 

' I took your Ilhistrated yesterday to show to the Mother-in-law of 
the German Missionary. ... I tried as I walked to the house to get 
up a little German ; but, O Laura, the Urdu had driven it almost all 
out of my head. If I wished to call up a German word, up would 
come an Urdu one I I did indeed remember " wunderbar,'' and 
" shrecklich," so that helped me with the Illustrated, but they would 
not have been very useful in a lengthy conversation. 

' If I had had time to write yesterday, I might have given you such 
an interesting account of the Panjabi Munshi, which I heard from 
Mr. H. This Munshi, I forget his name, is the son of one of the 

1 A learned Hindu. Pronounced, pzindit. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER i\c) 

four priests of the Golden Temple, and a man of character, some talent, 
and influence. Mr. H., who is translating some of the Bible into 

Panjabi, wanted 's assistance. The Munshi courteously declined, 

as he feared that the Bible would be contrary to the "Granth," the Sikh 
Scriptures. These Scriptures, so far as they go, Mr. H. says, are not 
bad at all; and true Sikhs detest idolatry. "Well," says Mr. H., 
"both you and I worship the Great God. We will make a bargain. 
If in the Bible we meet with anything against the Great God, we will 
close the book at once." The Munshi instantly closed with the offer ; 
and the result is that at last he has told Mr. H. that there is no book 
in the world like the Bible. When the Munshi's sister lay dying, he 
nursed her night and day, and used to carry to her what he had been 
reading with Mr. H. 

'The Munshi's father, the priest, seemed to have had rather a 
natural fear of his son's imbibing what he would consider wrong 
doctrine. He therefore, with two friends, made the Munshi read 
over to them what he had been busy about with the Christian Sahib. 
After a while the priest observed, "At first I listened as a critic; 
now I listen with interest." 

'What an honest, conscientious man the Munshi is, was shown by 
his conduct to a rich tradesman in the city. This rich man paid the 
Munshi to come and read the "Granth" to him, — I suppose for 

amusement, as he himself is a Hindu and idolater. When came 

to read, he saw an idol in front of the Hindu, and the Sikh positively 
refused to open the " Granth" — his sacred book — in presence of the 
idol. "Why," says the Hindu, "you worship the picture of your 

saint, so you need not object to my image." But positively denied 

that he worshipped the picture. "Bring one here," he said; "and 
in the presence of witnesses, I will tear it in pieces. Will you do the 
same with your idol ? " ' 

The following letter to one of her aunts, dated May 8, 

1876, refers to the above expedition : — 

' I see you have an impression that we Missionary ladies dress 
oddly, behave strangely, and undergo all kinds of hardships. You 

think that I slept on the ground when I went to O . Not a bit 

of it ! Margaret and I took beds with us, and a table and seats and 
cooking utensils, and a stock of provisions — and Common sense ! ! ! 
We were never the worse for our adventure. The Missionaries 
scold each other more for imprudence about health than any other 
thing, and I am the scold of the party, so that as I preach I must 
practise. 



220 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

'"I72d1y. As regards dress, I consider that we dress rather prettily 
than otherwise. Of course in England it would look funny to see a 
lady of my age all in white, with a topi and pugri and white parasol ; 
but it does not look funny in India. Why, the very soldiers look 
like figures in plaster of Paris. As for the natives thinking us 
" Chinese," there is no fear of their doing that. I believe that we 
Missionaries are much respected ; we are treated with courtesy ; 
and one of us may walk alone through crowds of hundreds of natives, 
and never have a disrespectful word. . . . 

' Then you so kindly take a little anxiety about my health ; but 
I do not know that I was ever better in my life. I fancy that I am 
even a trifle fatter. Thank God, I have not had a touch of fever or 
headache yet ; and though my pankah has been up for days, I have 
not cared to have it worked. Of course the greatest heat is to 
come ; . . • but heat, except of course exposure to the sun, does not 
seem to injure me ; and I am more afraid of December cold than of 
July heat.' 

In April she went to Lahore for a visit, as companion 
to a Missionary, left alone. Writing from there, she 
observes : ' Visits to Missionary stations are a part of my 
education ; and one which Dr. Murdoch strongly recom- 
mended for me. He would have me running about the 
country ; but really I am too old to be a comet like my 
nephew.' ^ And again, speaking of a walk through the 
narrow streets of Lahore : ' Presently we met a cart 
drawn by buffaloes, which filled up the greater part of the 
width of the road, — of course one does not expect 
pavements for foot-passengers. Miss H. was a bit 
frightened, and seemed to think that the big ugly creatures 
would leave us no room to pass ; but I could see that 
there was plenty of room, if we went single file. And as 
for being afraid of a stolid buffalo, that looks as if it never 
would dream of goring any one, even if its horns were not 
so set on that it could not do such a thing, there would be 
small excuse for that. Why, Margaret one day, when she 
was in Cashmere, saw a big black bear only a few yards 

1 Adopted nephew, the Rev. Rowland Bateman. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 221 

from her, with just a Httle icy stream between, and she 
was not terrified. One bear would be equal to a hundred 
black buffaloes. I am rather struck by the amount of 

dash amongst Missionaries ! Miss is perhaps an 

exception, but then hers is merely school-work. I think 
that Margaret is a gallant lady, and that Emily ^ would 
be true as steel. As for some of the gentlemen, I feel sure 
that there is plenty of real heroism in them.' In almost 
her next letter she says of one of these Missionaries : ' I 
do hope that your cheque may make my nephew take a 
little more care of his health. He is so careful of Mission 
money, that he almost provokes us by travelling in ways 
likely to make him ill. I believe that he has seriously 
injured himself by economising in his own comforts. He 
ought not to be knocked about, for he is very fragile 
indeed.' 

' April 20. — The weather is gradually getting warmer. The 
thermometer in my verandah to-day, where it had been in the shade 
all the day, was about 107°, that is more than twenty degrees hotter 
than I have ever seen it in the most sultry day in England. But do 
not suppose that I mind the heat, or that it has hitherto done me the 
slightest harm. Thank God, I am in perfect health, not in the 
slightest degree feverish. I charmed Margaret at dinner to-day. 
" You are better in the hot weather than the cold," she cried. " I 
never knew you ask for a second help in the cold weather." And 
the two poor dear girls opposite me sat with plates sadly clean ; 
neither of them would touch a bit of meat. ... Of course we shall 
have the weather a good deal hotter presently, but then pankahs 
will be up.' 

' May 8. — There is a little romance going on here. A little native 
maiden was betrothed to a native lad. Before the marriage came 
off, the destined bridegroom and his parents became Christians. 
The girl's parents wanted to break off the match, and unite the girl 
to a heathen. But her heart was set on her young bridegroom. 
The case came before court, — Emily thinks about a year ago. It 
was adjudged that the maiden was too young to fix her own fate. But 

1 Miss Wauton. 



222 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

she is old enough now, and she has kept true to her lover. The 
final decision must be made in twenty-one days. The young girl — she 
looks such a child — wants, I hear, to become a Christian. Emily fain 
would ascertain whether she does so from love of religion, or only 
from love for her boy. I hope to be at her baptism, — and her 
wedding too, if all be well.' 

''May 29. — 1 have done so few lessons to-day, I had better set to 
them bravely. I have written out, large and black, so that I may 
easily read in dim light, more than 1300 words, to go over regularly 
every fortnight, masculine separated from feminine nouns. I know 
others that I have not written down. But, Laura dear, all these 
words — rather a tax on an old lady's memory — take one on but a 
small way in speaking this difficult language.' 

Early in June she yielded very reluctantly to Mrs. 
Elmslie's pressure, and consented to go for a short time to 
Dalhousie ; and the letter following was written at an inn 
on the way : — 

'Dak Bungalow, //<';/t' 13, 1876. 

' I have been giving dear Leila an account of the first part of 
my journey ; now I will go on with you. I slept a good deal in the 
gari. I dreamed that I was talking with you about Margaret. . . . 

' Well, I reached the dak bungalow (kind of inn) early in the morning, 
took early breakfast, and started in my dull (kind of palanquin) at about 
6.15. I wanted to start earlier, knowing that I had a nineteen miles 
stage before me, and that the day would probably be hot. I had 
nine men to carry me and my luggage. They made little of it, but 
went at the rate of nearly four miles an hour, including brief stoppages. 
Three times the poor fellows asked for leave to stop and drink water. 
This of course I granted. Twice I was asked for bakhshish ; but I 
declined giving any until I should arrive, and then if they carried me 
nicely I promised them something. 

' They did carry me very nicely. When they had gone about ten 
miles, and might be supposed to have grown pretty tired, then they 
began to be lively, laughing and chatting together, I suppose to 
beguile the way. It would be well if we took life's journey as 
patiently and cheerfully as these poor half-clad mountaineers. Note 
ifiserfed. Oh, doubtless it was a relay ! . . . 

' The thunder has been grumbling. Perhaps I may take a little 
walk before I start on my long night expedition. This seems to be a 
lovely place, but of course I shall not walk in the heat of the day. . . . 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 223 

' It is indeed a miracle how a mere handful of Enghshmen rule 
such a country as this. Since I left Amritsar I have seen but one 
English face, and that was the face of some one lying full length in 
a duli which I passed. He was very likely ill. Yet one feels oneself 
under a very stro7tg wing of the law, — far more so than one does in 
England. There have I been travelling with a band of natives to 
whom threepence is a good present . . . my language, my religion, 
are strange, and yet I neither receive nor fear the slightest disrespect. 
Is not this like a miracle "t 

' Thunder again ! If I have a storm to-night in the mountains, 
how sublime it will look ! ' 

But though she enjoyed her time in the mountains, she 
was eager to return to work ; and even from Dalhousie 
her letters contain chiefly details of what was being done, 
there or at Amritsar, in her absence. On the i8th of July 
she was on the road ; and again she wrote from an inn : — 

' I have bidden farewell to Dalhousie. The skies were weeping 
violently when I started ; so was not I ! . . . Dalhousie is grandly 
beautiful ; but I have been asking myself why 1 have not been in 
raptures with its beauties. I think that two things are wanting to 
its perfection ; — first, the soft blue haze which one connects with 
distant mountains. High and hard, some snow-crowned peak cuts 
the sky. You are told that it is a hundred miles off. You don't 
believe it ! It is as clear and sharp as if only two. Then water is a 
very great want, at least to me. Certainly, there is the Ravi, one of 
the five famous rivers of the Panjab ; but at Dalhousie it looks, at 
least in June, first cousin to a swamp. One wants waterfalls. One- 
hundredth part — one-thousandth part — of Niagara, glorious Niagara, 
would be a boon at Dalhousie. . . . 

'It is a curious thing, dear Laura, that kind of instinct which 
one acquires in India ! I have often and often thought on the subject. 
One feels as if one belonged to such a lordly race. It is that odd 
kind of impression upon one that, though one may pcjsonally be 
weak as water, one forms a part of a mysterious power. There is a 
kind of instinctive persuasion that neither man nor beast would dare 
to attack one, — except perhaps a vicious horse. One travels by 
night, without the slightest protection, surrounded by half-clad, 
ignorant semi-savages ; one never dreams of fearing them. One 
takes one's early walk in a lonely place, where the cheetah or snake 
may lurk, without the smallest alarm. They would not surely attack 
one of the English ! . . .' 



CHAPTER III 

A.D. 1876 

CURIOUS WAYS 

More than half of Charlotte Tucker's first year in India 
was now over ; and still no thought of work for herself in 
Batala had arisen. She knew about Batala, and was 
interested in the place, no doubt, as in all other outlying 
parts where Missionary work had been even fitfully 
attempted. But Amritsar was thus far her home ; and there 
she expected to remain. She continued to study hard and 
perseveringly, in preparation for fuller work, often lament- 
ing her own slowness in learning to speak ; and already she 
was making herself known and beloved by a few Indians, 
— either Christian, or disposed towards Christianity. 

After her return from Dalhousie she wrote in joyous 
strains : ' Here I am at dear Amritsar again, which I 
much prefer to the abode amongst the clouds.' There 
was some idea that she might have to go all the way back 
to Dalhousie, to nurse a sick Missionary there ; and she 
was perfectly willing to do so, without hesitation on the 
score of fatigue, without a thought of the long, troublesome 
journey. No one else could be so well spared at that 
period from Amritsar as herself; and this she fully realised. 
' If however dear Florrie rallies nicely,' she wrote, ' I have 
not the slightest intention of going to cloudland again. 
Pankah-land suits my taste better.' Happily, it was not 
necessary for her to go. 

224 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 225 

It was in the spring or summer of this year that she 
began to name her various new friends after certain jewels, 
according to her estimate of their respective gifts and 
characters. She possessed, in imagination, a jewelled 
bracelet, representing the different Missionary gentlemen 
of her acquaintance, — Diamond, Opal, Amethyst, etc. A 
companion bracelet was supposed to represent the Mis- 
sionary ladies, — consisting of Diamond, Sardonix, Onyx, 
etc. Also she had in mind ' an extraordinary necklace, 
Oriental pattern, formed of Native friends,' — those Indian 
Christians, whom she had begun to know and to love, 
many of whom repaid her love, and did not disappoint 
her trust in the coming years. 

A little later, in the letter describing this favourite idea, 
she adds : ' Now we come to my yellow girdle, studded 
with gems. This is composed of dear ones in Old Eng- 
land ; my own Laura being the Pearl nearest the heart.' 

A more prosaic and less romantic nature can perhaps 
hardly understand, much less sympathise with, the delight 
afforded to her curiously symbol-loving mind by this 
manner of regarding those whom she loved. 

In July a letter speaks of ' seeing more of the lights and 
shadows of Missionary life ' than before. A certain }'oung 
Muhammadan, in whom they were greatly interested, 
after long inquiry and hesitation, at length made up his 
mind to come boldly forward, and to be baptized. 
Arrangements were made for his Baptism in the Church 
by a Native clergyman ; the matter being kept as quiet as 
possible, for avoidance of the opposition which was sure 
to arise. Miss Tucker was told only on the morning of 
the day what was about to happen ; and great was her 
delight, as well as her fear that some hindrance might 
intervene. 

* I had a kind of intuitive feeling,' she said, * that some- 
thing might come to prevent the Convert from openly 
P 



226 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

confessing his Lord. I knew not how great the danger 
was.' 

One hour remained before the time fixed for the Baptism, 
when the young man — Babu G. he may be called — 
came in, troubled and pale. His Mother had somehow 
divined his intention, and was doing her utmost to prevent 
its being carried out. She flung a brick at the head of 
one Christian Native, who had had a hand in influencing 
the young Muhammadan ; she raved and beat her breast ; 
she cursed and tore her hair ; she declared to her son that 
if he became a Christian she would die. 

Babu G. believed all this, and was sorely shaken. 
His Mother was brought to the Mission-house, and a 
vehement scene followed. The old lady sat upon the 
ground, pouring out threats and curses, beating her breast 
and tearing her hair anew, — only, as A. L. O. E. somewhat 
drily observed afterwards, she very cleverly avoided hurting 
herself by her blows, and none of her hair seemed to come 
out with all the apparent ' tearing.' But the young man 
could hardly be expected to see this as a stranger would ! 
He wavered — hesitated — and at last gave way. The 
Baptism did not take place ; and the unhappy young 
fellow, convinced of the truth of Christianity, willing in 
heart to be a servant of Christ, had not courage to take 
his own decision, but remained a Muhammadan. Bitter 
tears were shed over his defection by gentle Mrs. 
Elmslie ; the first that Miss Tucker had ever seen her 
shed. 

Such stories as this show conclusively that the work which 
most of all needs to be done in India is to transform the 
Mothers, — to educate a generation of Christian Mothers. 
Their sons then will be Christian too. No power in the 
world surpasses that of a mother over her children, 
whether she be English or Hindu or Muhammadan. 

Charlotte Tucker s stern side seems to have come out 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 227 

in this stormy interview with the furious old lady. ' Are 
you not afraid,' she demanded, 'that God's anger is on 
you ? You have been your son's enemy. When affliction 
comes, remember, — remember, — REMEMBER ! ' 

Side by side, however, with this great disappointment, 
were other more hopeful aspects of the work. Light 
and shade naturally go together. A few days later she 
wrote : — 

'The mother still holds her unhappy son in bonds, and forbids him 
even to breathe the air of our compound. . . . But even about her 
we need not despair. I was reading the Gospel to-day with the 
sweetest-looking elderly woman that I have seen in India. All 
beauty generally departs with youth, but this woman is really attrac- 
tive still. She was in bitter grief at the baptism of her eldest son ; 
when the next was baptized she blessed him ; and now she is quite 
ready for baptism herself Such a sweet expression came over her 
face yesterday when I reminded her of her former grief and her 
present joy ! ' 

On August 8th she wrote : — 

'The old Chaukidar^ made us laugh the other evening by his earnest, 
emphatic warning against our ladies driving out at night. He uses 
sometimes almostfrantic gesticulations. He told us that there is danger 
of meeting at night a dreadful being, in appearance somewhat like Mr. 
H. — a tall, fair, blue-eyed handsome young friend of ours I — whose 
object is to cut off English heads. I have heard of a similar supersti- 
tion in the Hills ; but there I fancy that Native heads, not English, 
were in requisition. You can imagine from this what a funny fellow 
the old Chaukidar is ; but we look on him as true as steel. One day 
Mrs. E. found him most good-naturedly pulling Iman's pankah for 
him. She was so much pleased that she gave him four pomegranates. 
The old fellow was delighted, and at once gave three of them away, 
keeping only one for himself His friend, our half-blind Iman, was 
one to benefit by his generosity.' 

The name ' Iman,' meaning ' Faith,' was bestowed by 
Miss Tucker upon a poor pankah-wala, whose affectionate 

1 Watchman. 



228 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

disposition made a strong impression upon her. The poor 
fellow, although half-blind, volunteered one day to walk the 
whole twenty-four miles to Batala and back in three days, 
to carry medicine to a sick woman there, — the wife of 
the young Muhammadan, Babu G., above mentioned. 
Iman himself was, to say the least, disposed to be a 
Christian. These little side facts all serve to show the 
manner of influence which was acting gradually in all 
directions. 

In another letter, belonging to August, are the words : 
' We are rather on the tiptoe of expectation about our 
Bishop that is to be. There is a rumour that good Mr. 

is the man ; but surely it is impossible that such 

a shy, boy-like Missionary should be turned into a Right 
Reverend Father ! ' The appointment when made proved 
to be that of Bishop French, well known in Mutiny days 
as Mr. French of Agra, who utterly refused to allow the 
Christian Natives to be banished from the town, as was 
proposed by some faint-hearted people there. If they 
went, Mr. French said, he would go with them ; and he 
undertook to answer for their faithfulness. His resolution 
prevailed ; and the little band of Indian Christians were 
faithful to the end of the Siege. 

About this time a change took place, which A. L. O. E. 
'quite approved,' but which she did not 'like.' Mrs. 
Elmslie left the Mission Bungalow, to live at the neigh- 
bouring Orphan House, taking charge of the orphans. 
A superintendent under her had hitherto done the work, 
but had proved inefficient ; and the new plan was not 
only better in itself, but promised to save money — always 
a prime consideration where Missionary funds have to be 
considered. 

On August 23rd comes a letter of some importance, 
respecting the kind of Missionaries wanted out there. 
This subject will recur from time to time in the course of 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 229 

the correspondence ; but even at so early a stage as this 
Miss Tucker seems to have clearly grasped what was and 
what was not required. 

' It is very kind in you to send me the Illustrated. After it has 
been seen here, and at the Orphanage, and by the dear, good 
Germans, off it starts for Dalhousie, and Florrie probably makes it 
over to the soldiers after she has done with it ; so you see that you 
benefit many by your kindness. 

' I do not think that my Margaret at all enjoys being away from us 
in the schoolhouse, though she keeps bright and brave. "The 
Mother is as home-sick as can be," was the description given by one 
of our ladies, this house being the "home" meant. Of course, we go 
over and pet her, and get her here when we can. I hear that 
her room was leaking so last night ; that must be looked to at 
once. But rooms had a fair excuse for leaking ; we had such a 
storm ! . . . 

' It was amusing when Emily, Ada, and I were talking over our 
youth the other day. Dashing, energetic games had been the delight 
of my companions ; and I begin to imagine that cricket, rounders, 
and bolstering form no bad preparation for Missionary life. Dash 
and energy and physical strength are very desirable. We want ladies 
who fear nothing, grumble at nothing, and are ready to carry the 
Holy War into the enemy's camp. One of Emily's many advantages 
is that she is a fearless rider. I am rather alarmed at hearing that 
an extremely delicate lady is coming out to us. We want hearty, 
strong ladies, not sickly ones. The Missionaries are too short 
of hands to be able to undertake much sick-nursing. If I were 
to require to be nursed at night — which, thank God, I have not 
done — I should feel inclined to run off somewhere or other, so as not 
to tax the strength of my nieces.' 

Only two days later we have mention of the first Baptism 
in Batala, her future home during so many years. She 
writes : ' A deeply interesting event took place yesterday 
at Batala ; the baptism of a Brahmin, a man in a very 
influential position, and in Government employ. Dear 
Sadiq ^ and I believe other Christians went to Batala on 

1 Padri Sadiq, Native Clergyman. 



230 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Wednesday for the Baptism, which was to be as public as 
possible — in a tank.' This was written August 25 ; and 
on the 29th she gave more particulars. 

'The jackals treated us to their varied music last night ; but one 
does not mind them a bit, for they never seem to attack people, or 
intrude into houses. I wish that they would teach their good manners 
to the sparrows. The cheetah also is a modest creature. There was an 
account very lately of a cheetah going into a verandah at Dalhousie ; 
nothing between it and the interior of the house but a chick blind ; 
but it was too polite to intrude. It would be rather exciting to look 
at a cheetah through a chick blind ; you can see through it quite well, 
as the light is outside. 

' But, O Laura, I ought not to waste my space on cheetahs or 
jackals, when I can write of things so much more interesting. I had 
such an interesting account of the Baptism of B— n, the Brahmin 
at Batala, from Mr. Beutel,i supplemented by one from Sadiq. 
They were both present. . . . Mr. Beutel observed that he (B — n) 
had had to go through more than many do in a campaign. Why, 
except the Catechist and his wife, he is the only Christian that we 
know of in that fierce, bigoted Batala. As the Muhammadans did not 
know of the time fixed for the baptism, at the beginning of the Service 
by the tank not many people gathered ; but seeing that something 
was going on, gradually a crowd collected. At last the crowd grew 
large — and excited also — and the police authority had to be called in 
for protection. 

' Perhaps the worst of all was the Christian's reception at his 
home ; his wife came with her three little ones to meet him, beat- 
ing her breast, etc. Sadiq had intended to carry B — n back to 
Amritsar with him, to let the first fury of the storm blow over ; but 
poor B — n preferred remaining at Batala, because if he left his 
wife, he did not know what she might do with his children. So there 
the brave fellow remains. We ought to pray earnestly for this our 
brother.' 

In a letter to her niece, Mrs. Boswell, on September ist, 
Charlotte Tucker spoke of herself as 'heart-sick with 
anxiety ' about the convert, regretting much that he had 
not come to Amritsar. 

1 German Missionary at Amritsar. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 231 

' Would that he could have carried wife and children off with him ! 
but I suppose that this was impossible, against the woman's will. 
Dear Sadiq soon went again to Batala ; — alas ! he was not suffered to 
see the convert, who is surrounded by enemies, and seems to be quite 
in their power. B — n's wife, after starving herself for three days from 
grief at his baptism, has died, it is said from an attack of cholera. 

' Our fear is that the heathen are starving B — n and his three 
children to death ! One poor lamb is but a few months old. If I 
were a man, I would be off to Batala. My friend Mr. H. has written 
a strong note to an English official at no great distance from Batala, 
— there 7iot one Englishman resides,— and I feel little doubt that he 
will bring the strong arm of the law to proiect B — n. But the note 
will not reach till this evening. For eight days B— n will have 
been in the fiery furnace. How long can he hold out ? ' 

Reports, happily false, of the retractation of the convert 
came to distress them at Amritsar ; and Mr. Beutel, 
leaving his wife and mother dangerously ill, went over to 
Batala to inquire how matters stood. He found B — n, 
though much tried and sorely pressed, still standing 
firm. 

It is melancholy to read of Charlotte Tucker's eager 
delight in carrying the good news to her favourite 
Maulvi Z., — of whom at that time she thought so well 
and hopefully as an established Christian, and who in 
later years vyas to grieve her most bitterly by himself 
becoming an apostate. 

Letters at this time show her steadily growing interest 
in Batala, her ever-increasing desire for systematic work 
there. 

''Sept. 14, 1876. — I have been delaying writing till I could give you 
news from Batala, — that place towards which Missionary eyes 
longingly turn, as those of the Germans did towards Strasburg. 
May Batala be given to us, as Strasburg was to them.' 

''Sept. 20. — As regards my little Indian tales, I have sent a good 
many to Nelson, who has accepted them ; and consequently I 
suppose intends to publish them. It is very likely that they have 



232 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

been appearing in the Family T?'easury. . . . Sadiq had just come 
from Batala, where he had seen B — n. Dear Sadiq ! I think that 
he must have gone altogether seven or eight times to Batala, He is 
a friend worth having. B — n expressed his willingness to bring his 
little girls to Amritsar ; but his baby was so very, very ill, that he feared 
she could not be moved. . . . The little lamb appeared to be sinking 
fast. My surprise is how she has been kept alive so long. The last 
account was that the baby was " not fit to be picked off the charpai " ; ^ 
she seemed dying. Dear little martyred innocent, — dying because 
her father gave himself to Christ I B — n intends to bring his two 
elder children ; but of course nothing can be done while baby is 
dying. . . . 

' O Laura, I feel as if these two deaths in Batala marked the place 
as our own. So much cannot have been suffered in vain.' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'Sept. 26, 1876. 

' Those rogues of sparrows have fairly driven me out of my room 
this morning. They make such a chatter. I intend to request Mr. 
H. benevolently to shoot a few ; just to show the rest that really they 
must not expect to be allowed to build, and gossip, and make them- 
selves disagreeable in every possible way in the room of a Buziirg 
Miss Sahiba. . . . 

' It is much cooler. These two last nights I have needed no 
pankah, and was able to bear a blanket. I have resumed wearing a 
merino vest by day, and it is very comfortable. The darzi,^ who 
squats in the verandah, is busy on a magnificent dressing-gown, 
which I have ordered. I brought out flannel from England, but not 
a flannel dressing-gown, so I have bought a rich shawl-pattern, and 
the flannel will line it, and I shall look like a Malika ^ and feel — 
almost as comfortable as a sparrow. ... It seemed to be a question 
with the darzi whether the white flannel was to be inside or outside ! 
The matter appeared to interest some of the servants. One lives in 
such a public way in India. Whatever one gives to be made or 
mended is made or mended in the verandah ; and the darzi, as he 
cuts out, clips, and sews, talks— perhaps with the pankah-wala, 
perhaps a stranger, perhaps the munshi (tutor) whose pupil is not 
quite ready to take her lesson. . . . There is no shutting the world 
out ; and the Indian world is such a curious world. 

1 Native bedstead. "-' Tailor. 3 Queen. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 233 

' Then people's characters are so public ; no one seems to think it 
worth while to wear thick cloaks over them. Everybody seems to 
know about everybody else. The very public papers seem personal. 
. . . O yes, India is a very curious place, — people curious, — ways 
curious, — insects curious, — dress curious, etc. The very Anglo- 
Saxon character appears in a new and curious aspect. India is a 
place to develop an instinct to command, and to carry things with a 
high hand. Weakness does almost as much harm as wickedness. 
But I feel myself too old to learn the zabardast ^ way of going on. I am 
not fitted to grasp reins of government, and drive a team of twenty-two 
Indian servants, syces, pankah-walas, bearer^ khitmatgar, ayah, etc., 
see that the horses are not cheated of grain, that pankah-walas pull, 
that kahars don't take French leave, etc. etc. I hope that Florrie -^ 
will hold the reins, if she and I go off together.' 

' Oct. 5. — We had a visit from our good Pastor Sadiq yesterday. 
I was the one to receive him. You know that I am not strong 
in the language yet. I knew that Sadiq was speaking about sick- 
ness, castor-oil, and quinine, and people going about to look after 
the sufferers ; but I could not get at his full meaning ; and as he was 
clearly on business, I thought it better to call in C. to my aid. 
It was well that I did ! Sadiq's heart was full of Batala — our Stras- 
burg — where people are dying of fever, faster than even in Amritsar. 
Sadiq wanted a subscription to be made instanter to send off quinine 
and castor-oil. The Christian lawyer, R., would go on to-day or 
to-morrow, and Sadiq himself would follow on Monday. Talk of 
languid, apathetic Hindus ! Sadiq, when he takes a thing into his 
head, goes at it like a battering-ram. . . . 

' To-day I had what seemed to poor me a long tete-a-tete with the 

Pandit from O , that village which you will remember I visited 

with Margaret. O dear ! it was a bit of a mental effort. He is a 
learned man ! I longed for C. to come to my rescue, but battled 
with verbs and genders as well as I could. 

' I was determined to do the polite, so I boldly asked the Pandit to 
stay to dinner. I could do so, as, oddly enough, I am now the senior 
Missionary at Amritsar,-^ though I feel such a child in the language. 
Rather to my surprise, the Pandit accepted my invitation at once. He 
would not eat with us when he was here before, nor when at O , 

* Carrying things with a higli hand. 

2 Miss Svvainson. 

3 Mrs. ElmsUe and Miss Wauton were away for a few weeks in the Hills with 
Miss Swainson. 



234 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

for he is a curious half-and-half sort of Christian/ leading such a 
lonely life amongst heathen. The Pandit shared our meal, but only 
took vegetables and bread-and-butter. 

' Do you not laugh at the notion of poor Char, sitting at the head 
of a table, and entertaining a Pandit, and feeling her ignorance, and 
plunging about in a bog of Urdu ? I did not, however, attempt to talk 
much after C. came in, as she has been nearly four years in India, 
and speaks the language well.^ 

When the next letter was written, on October 14, the 
Batala plan was under discussion. Padri Sadiq seems to 
have first suggested the idea that Miss Tucker should pro- 
ceed thither with Miss Swainson, and open a Mission in 
the place. Miss Tucker does not appear to have at first 
viewed the scheme with any great enthusiasm. 

' Such a merry breakfast we had this morning ! Our three dear 
ladies, Margaret, Emily, and Florrie, arrived at about 9 a.m. after 
nine hours of raft, — very tiring, for it involved much walking, and it 
was raining away, — and twelve of dak-gari. Margaret looked young 
and lovely ; Florrie much improved, . . . She is delighted with the 
Batala scheme ; but Margaret tells me that it cannot be carried out 
till December at earliest, and I have my doubts about its being 
carried out at all. At any rate, the difficulties will not have come 
from ?ne. I am quite willing to go ; but of course a new station 
would involve the Committee in expenses, and it is not easy to pro- 
cure a suitable house, etc., so it is likely enough that Sadiq's plan 
will be disapproved of in high quarters. I quietly wait to see what 
direction is taken by " the fiery, cloudy pillar." . . . 

' Last night I had to chaperon to our noisy, bustling station after 
dark a young Missionary, who looks to me quite unfledged. There I 

met the school-teacher. Miss , with her young sister, yet more 

unfledged, bound on the same errand. ... I think that the stations 
at Indian cities are more noisy and bustling than the worst London 
ones. It almost shocks my sense of propriety, young girls travelling 
at night, — it is funny even to an old lady, hurrying up and down a 
bustling platform amongst Natives. I think that I managed pretty 
well for ?ny charge, for I got her into a carriage with a lady and 
children, so she was safe enough ; she was not to cross the Sutlej till 

1 This was an early stage. Now the learned Pandit, K. S. , is an Ordained 
Clergyman. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 235 

daylight. Poor little Miss was put by her sister into an empty 

carriage ; but who knows whether some drunken, low European may 
not have got into it at the next station ? And the poor, simple little 
thing was to cross the Sutlej at midnight, with her baggage to look 
after ! ! ! We would hardly do such things in England. I have slept 
a night here, with not a soul ifi the house but myself^ and the house 
seems so strangely open ; but I was not a bit afraid.' 

' Oct. 20, 1876. — When this reaches you, perhaps you will be feeling 
the first pinch of winter. We do not escape it here in our bright, 
glowing Panjab. I cherish a fond hope that if we go to Batala, we 
shall find it warmer than Amritsar. . . . Emily, Florrie, and Sadiq 
have gone off to-day on a house-hunting expedition to Batala. It 
is considered a very healthy place ; except, of course, at present — an 
exceptional season. If I go, I do not expect to have much to do 
at first except learn the language. I leave school-work to Florrie ; 
she is well up to it ; and I hear that Zenanas are likely to be very 
slow in opening. . . . 

'My Munshi . . . asked me to give him leave of absence on the 
next day, or that following it, as it would be the Muhammadans'^rt'(^/ 
day. He could not tell me which of the two days it would be, because 
all would depend on the moon. If the moon were seen on the night 
after the i8th, then the 19th would be the feast day, the end of the 
long Muhammadan fast. If the moon were not seen, the poor people 
must wait till the 20th. " Suppose," said I, " that the people at 
Lahore see the moon, and that those at Amritsar do not, will the 
Lahore folk have a feast and you a fast .^ " A. answered in the 
affirmative. . . . 

' I talked with A. a little about the fasting. He told me with 
gusto that he had once gone to the house of a Muhammadan friend, 
who happened to have a little hole in his door, on one of the days 
of the fast. A., the old rogue, peeped through the hole, and 
detected his friend in the act of eating. A. then knocked at the 
door. His friend — it made me think of Friar Tuck ! — popped the 
food into a box, wiped his mouth, and was ready to receive his 
visitor. "What were you doing.?" asked A. "Reading," was 
the reply. Then A. opened the box, and showed the discom- 
fited hypocrite the food, and — according to his own account — gave 
the man a lecture. I have my doubts about the latter part of the 
story — I mean the lecture.' 

' Oct. 26. — Our poor city has been bearing some resemblance to a 
hospital. Some think that not one of her inhabitants — 120,000 — has 



236 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

altogether escaped the fever, and many have died ; but I am thankful to 
write that the sickness is on the decrease. ... I cannot, however, go 
to dear Louis, for the Beutels, who have been very ill, are going to 
Ludhiana ; and their mother, too ill to be moved, must have some one 
to look after her a little during their absence. I am the only lady 
available, being well, and with no pressure of work. I am almost 
astonished at having been so exempted from suffering, when 
thousands and thousands have been so ill. I have not spent a day 
in bed . . . since leaving England. It is a cause for much thank- 
fulness. Of course I had a little fever, but it has left no dregs. The 
weather is so nice, that one hardly understands why any one should be 

ill 

' The Batala plan is rather hanging fire at present. Day after day 
passes, and no reply is received to the letter asking permission for us 
to occupy apartments in the palace. No other place in or near 
Batala seems to be available. Even in the palace considerable 
alterations would be needed, to make the rooms at all suitable for 
English ladies.' 

''Nov. 1 6. — Sadiq does not quite approve of our selection of a house. 
He would have liked one right in the city ; but it is far pleasanter to 
us to be a little out of it. ... I asked him if he had any news of B — n. 
Sadiq told me that he had seen him at Batala, the beginning of last 
week. Our brave Brahmin convert had been very ill, and had 
written — or caused to be written — a paper stating that he wished his 
body to be buried by Christians, his children brought up by Chris- 
tians, and his property taken care of by the Mission. I am thankful 
to say that B — n did not die ; but as Sadiq said, he has had 
affliction upon affliction. ... In a few months this convert has lost 
wife, babe, and only brother. Sadiq said that B — n's regret about 
the babe was that it had not been baptized. But when I remarked 
that I thought the babe had been a kind of martyr, like the little ones 
killed by Herod, Sadiq looked pleased.' 

''Dec. I. — I suppose that my next letter will be addressed to you 
from my new home in Batala. My nieces are very anxious to make 
arrangements for my comfort. I am not to have the trouble of help- 
ing to put the new house into order. Two ladies go before to make 
everything nice. . . . 

' I went to dear S. Begum to-day, — the one who was lately baptized 
with her young daughter, — to speak to her about Holy Communion. 
I am glad that I shall have the First Sunday in Advent in Amritsar. 
It will seem strange to reside in a place where there is no church ! 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 237 

I suppose that we shall go over to the Catechist's house, and have 
Urdu service there. . . . 

' It was very interesting to hear Mr. Wade's account of the open- 
ing of a little church in the village of G. The peculiar and very 
interesting feature of the affair is that in this Rajput village a little 
flock has been gathered just by Native agency. And the way for the 
Native evangelist, the excellent C, was wondrously prepared. 

' In old Runjit's time a kind of Native prophet declared that our 
Lord was greater than all others. This Pandit was succeeded by 
another, who declared that all the people would become the Lord's 
followers. They who came first would receive Jionoit?' ; they who 
came next, a mere sicbsiste7ice ; they who came last would be drive?i 
in ! Then a third teacher arose — the present one. He said that a 
shepherd pushes one sheep after another into the fold, and when all 
are in follows himself; and that so he would get the people into the 
Christian fold, and then follow them. 

' It seems to us a most extraordinary way of evangelising ; but 
when the Rev. C. came to the village, he found that these strange 
teachers had really ploughed up the ground to receive the good seed ; 
and the third teacher has come himself into the fold with four of his 
relatives. His wife still holds out. 

' The opening of the tiny church was a delightful scene. There 
are only 14 or 15 baptized Christians ; but the people, men and 
women, flocked in, till there was hardly room to sit on the ground. 
In the thoroughly Oriental church there are no seats.' 

''Dec. 4, 1876. —I have this morning read your loving expostulation 
to Margaret and myself regarding Batala. You think that your 
strong point is my unfitness for an out-station. But, sweet one, you 
forget that I am so specially fitted, by age, for the post, that if I were 
to draw back, the whole promising plan might fall to the ground. The 
Natives reverence grey hairs ; and I dare say that some of them will 
pet me. As for the language, I manage to get on after a fashion, 
and smiles go a good way. 

' I assure you that I have never felt my heart lighter than I have 
done lately, fond as I am of those I leave. It seems as if the way 
were so plain. If I were perfectly dumb, I should still be useful as a 
chaperon. But I am not quite dumb. 

' I had such a golden First Sunday in Advent yesterday. . . . 
Fancy the encouragement of seeing B — n, the one Christian con- 
vert residing in Batala, and sharing the Cup with him in our dear 
Amritsar Church. I shook hands with him after afternoon service- 



238 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

1 am sorry that when I uttered the two words, " Hamara bhai,"i I 
should have said " Hamare," instead of " Hamara." It was a pity 
that my first word should have been incorrect ; but I could not think 
of grammar at such a moment. . . . Then I have had such an 
encouraging note from dear Emily, who is making things straight 
for me at Batala. . . . — Your happy Char.' 

1 ' My brother.' 



CHAPTER IV 

A.D. 1876 

A PALACE FOR A HOME 

In December 1876 Charlotte Maria Tucker entered upon 
the final stage of her earthly career. Final in a sense ; for 
though more than once Batala had to be temporarily 
deserted, the place was never given up. Thenceforward, 
Batala became in very truth her home ; Batala work was 
essentially her work ; and the remaining years of her life 
were devoted to Batala. 

Having once made up her mind that she was definitely 
called to this particular post, nothing could withhold her. 
Difficulties, oppositions, hindrances, prospects of loneliness, 
imperfect knowledge of Indian languages, increasing age, — 
all these were as nothing in the way. If she was called, 
she would go ! And Miss Tucker believed that she was 
called. 

Others were not so sure. Mrs Elmslie wrote on the 8th 
of December to Mrs. Hamilton : * I agree with you that 
your beloved sister's power lies in gifts which can be used 
to perhaps greater influence here than in an out-station. 
This isolation from European society is not what I should 
have chosen for one who can exercise so much influence 
for good among her own countrymen ; and whose pen 
can do more for India than perhaps the lives of many 
others.' No doubt this view of the question weighed 
greatly in the judgment of many. For one who can 

239 



240 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

write books suitable to Indian requirements, there are 
scores of Missionaries who can with ease learn the Native 
languages, and who can visit and teach in Zenanas, per- 
haps far more effectually than A. L. O. E. did. 

To lookers-on it may seem that she judged wrongly 
here ; that her eagerness for personal work was a mistake ; 
that she might have done more by following the advice of 
her friends, and remaining at Amritsar. Advice she had ; 
for Mrs. Elmslie says in the same letter : ' We have one 
and all of us tried to dissuade her from going ; but she 
sees the Pillar going straight on before her. And who are 
we that we should gainsay it ? ' 

Suppose she only fancied that she ' saw the Pillar,' — in 
other words, that she was called or led or ordered to 
Batala? A mistake of this description is not impossible, 
especially in the case of an ardent and impulsive nature. 
If so, it was the mistake of burning love and self-devotion ; 
and one can well believe that such a mistake must be 
dearer to the Heart of our Lord than the correct attitude 
of those who always decide on the safe and comfortable 
side. 

But why should we imagine it to have been a mistake ? 
The true gist of the matter is not, after all, to be found in 
the question as to which particular type of work she might 
be best fitted for intellectually. The main question was 
rather — to which especial work was she bidden by her 
Master ? One can hardly live many years on Earth, with 
observant eyes, and believe that people are always or 
generally given exactly that work to do, for which they 
are by natural powers best adapted. Things often seem, 
indeed, just the other way ; people being put to work for 
which they appear to be least well adapted, and simply 
having to do their best. To us it may seem that 
A. L. O. E.'s pen was worth more to India than all her 
heroic struggles to conquer the languages and to teach in 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 241 

Zenanas. But if, as with her whole heart she beHeved, 
God had called her to work in Batala, — ' who are we,' to 
say that she should have remained away? The Com- 
mander-in-Chief of an army has a perfect right to place 
his soldiers where he will ; and so long as the soldier who 
is ordered to any particular post hears the word of com- 
mand, it matters very little whether anybody else hears 
it also. 

Suppose A. L. O. E. had 7tot gone to Batala, but had 
taken the advice of others, and had remained at Amritsar ! 
Possibly she might, by devoting herself to writing alone, 
have accomplished treble or quadruple the number of 
little books and tracts for India which she did accom- 
plish. But then a very heroic example of courage and 
self-devotion would have been lost to the Church. At 
Amritsar she would have had plenty of loving friends, 
and would have been altogether more comfortable, 
altogether in easier circumstances. Easy and comfortable 
examples, however, are not rare. Even the writing of a 
good many more little books might not have made up to 
us for what we should have lost in other respects. 

Besides, — she believed that she had her ' marching 
orders.' Even if, by any possibility, she were mistaken 
in that belief, she could not disobey. A soldier always 
instantly obeys what he believes to be the order given. 

Yet it could have been no light matter, — this going 
forth alone, with only one young companion, into a very 
fastness of Muhammadanism and Heathenism. Miss 
Tucker herself was no longer young. Though marvel- 
lously strong and spirited for her time of life, she was 
now in her fifty-sixth year ; hardly an age when, at the 
best, a woman is commonly willing to undertake great 
responsibilities in a new and untried direction. It was, 
however, true, as she said, that if she did not go, the 
Mission in Batala could not be at once started — as 
Q 



242 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

a resident Mission. No two young women could have 
gone there alone. They must have waited for a married 
Missionary and his wife to head the effort. 

In this step of Miss Tucker's a clue may perhaps be found 
for some lives, here or there, where a vocation is earnestly 
sought and not yet found. Why should not other middle- 
aged ladies go out, as she went out ? — not necessarily 
always to attempt full Zenana work ; but to be protectors, 
housekeepers, nurses, to younger and more active ladies ? 
Whether it would be right to use any portion of Mission- 
funds for such a purpose may be doubted ; and in many a 
case Mission tooiiis could not be spared ; but there are ex- 
ceptions as to the latter. And as to the money part of the 
question, doubtless many a warm-hearted lady, over fifty 
years of age, free from home-ties, with a spirit full of love 
and self-devotion, could afford to spend ^i 50 or ;^200 a year 
on such an object. Much might be done by her to cheer 
up the workers, to leave them more free for all that needed 
most to be done, — and indirectly she might help forward 
the work of evangelisation by the mere force of a fair 
Christian example in a dark land. There can be no ques- 
tion that Miss Tucker's life worked far more effectually 
than her words. What she said may have been long ago 
forgotten. What she was will never be forgotten. Her 
spoken words doubtless had at the time some power ; her 
written words perhaps had much more ; her life had by 
far the most of all. 

For any such line of life as is above suggested, however, 
only that type of woman is fit which has been already 
described in some of A. L. O. E.'s letters. Thin-skinned, 
anxious, feeble-spirited ladies, easily worried and easily 
vexed, will not do ; and angular, managing, argumenta- 
tive ladies would be quite as unsuitable. Those alone 
may venture who are not only fairly strong in health, 
vigorous in spirit, fearless as to difficulties, and careless as 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 243 

to discomforts, but who are also gentle, kind-hearted, 
sympathetic, willing to yield to the judgment of others, 
ready to please and not to rule. Almost above every- 
thing else, there should be a freedom from grumbling 
tendencies. If sucJi elderly ladies of England are will- 
ing to tread in A. L. O. E.'s footsteps, and to give the 
Evenings of their lives to Mission-work, openings enough 
for them might be found. 

The closing words of Mrs. Elmslie's letter to Mrs. 
Hamilton on December 8, show what Miss Tucker's 
presence in the Amritsar bungalow had been : * I shall 
miss my darling Charlotte much. She has been sunshine 
to me ever since she came ; and I am accustomed to 
think of her as a very precious gift from a loving Father 
Who knows our need. I hope to have her again at 
Christmas. Please feel assured that we shall tenderly 
watch over your dear one, even though not so closely 
together as formerly.' Miss Wauton also, speaking of 
that time, says : ' Her general presence was a great cheer 
to her fellow-workers there.' 

Mention has been made of the Mission-tree, — a large 
banyan, in front of the Amritsar bungalow, where Miss 
Tucker had now spent so many months. The central 
trunk had received the name of Amritsar, and other 
slender trunks around, already rooted, had received the 
names of various out-stations, where occasional work had 
been begun, but where no Missionaries yet resided. One 
slender shoot was called after Batala. It had then just 
reached the ground, but was not firmly rooted. Now, in 
1895, it is ' a thick, substantial trunk.' 

Batala, a walled town, about a mile across, has a 
population of some 25,000 people, and is twenty-four 
miles to the east of Amritsar. The Dalhousie range of 
the mighty Himalayas lies about fifty miles off; but the 
mountains, when snow-capped, look very much nearer. 



244 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

In those days there was not, as there is now, a line of rail 
connecting Amritsar with Batala. The journey from one 
to the other had commonly to be accomplished, either 
by tuin-tiLni, a light cart, with two or three changes of 
horses ; or else by ekka^ a country cart, which last mode 
of conveyance was very often used by Miss Tucker in 
coming years. It was a peculiarly rough and wearisome 
mode of travelling, the ekka having no springs ; but very 
early she took to doing as far as possible what the Indians 
do in such cases. Anything that would tend to make her 
one with them was eagerly attempted. For instance, she 
began speedily to sit upon the floor as Natives do ; and at 
Indian gatherings or feasts she would not only sit as they 
sat, but would share their food. She must have been 
singularly supple-jointed for her years, to be able to adopt 
this position without any serious inconvenience. The 
Rev. Robert Clark writes, with reference to her Batal^ 
mode of life : — 

'No conveyance was kept. Miss Tucker always travelled in her little 
dhoolie (or bird's-nest carriage), or in an ekka, a native conveyance 
without springs, where a seat about a yard square was perched on 
wooden wheels. On this she spread her bedding, which is always 
carried about by Missionaries. She was so well accustomed to sit 
on the ground, that her legs in this conveyance never were in the 
way. She gracefully folded them before or under her — we never 
could tell how — in a position which was very painful to most English 
people, but which seemed quite natural to her. She often used to 
trot over in this way, in an ekka, to Amritsar, on a road which 
caused many bumps and aches to most people's heads and arms and 
bodies ; but she would never allow that the shaking of twenty-four 
miles of such travelling as this ever did her any harm. I think she 
wished to be an example to us all. We used to travel then in 
tum-tums or buggies, or other vehicles with springs. But ekkas 
have much more become the fashion in our Missionary circles.' 

One idea Miss Tucker had, on first going to Batala, 
which the other Missionaries dissuaded her with great 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 245 

difficulty from putting into execution. This was to dress 
as the Indians do ! It was not considered a wise or 
desirable plan, from any point of view ; but Charlotte 
Tucker had gone so far, in her enthusiasm, as to provide 
herself with a Native dress, and her heart was very much 
set upon wearing it. To make her give up this favourite 
idea was no easy matter. 

Batala is a picturesque old town, with fine banyan-trees, 
and many old mango-tree gardens towards the north, en- 
closed either by walls or by aloe hedges, curiously appro- 
priate for A. L. O. E. It is said that in her younger days 
a review of some of her books spoke of them as being 
* bitter, like the name of their Author.' Did Miss Tucker 
ever recall this little notice when she looked upon the 
aloe hedges of Batala ? 

There is also a large lake-like tank close to the house 
in which Miss Tucker lived, and other tanks lie further 
off. This nearer tank has an ornamental pleasure-house 
in the middle ; and the tomb of the man who dug the 
tank is on its bank. Many handsome old tombs are to 
be seen in the place. The town itself is old, with exceed- 
ingly crooked and narrow streets ; so narrow, that a duli 
when carried through often touches the walls on both sides. 
The Batala people have the character of being particularly 
bigoted, hard-natured, quarrelsome, and difficult to deal 
with. 

Early in 1876 Miss Wauton had written in the Society's 
Report : ' I think we may consider the Batala Mission 
now thoroughly established.' This meant that about five 
Girls' Schools had been opened for Hindu, Sikh, and 
Muhammadan scholars, under the superintendence of the 
Catechist's wife, being from time to time visited by the 
Amritsar Missionary ladies. The children were taught 
elementary Christian truths ; they learned to sing simple 
hymns ; and books were given to them. The work, 



246 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

however, was hardly more than begun, when A. L. O. E. 
decided to make Batala her home. One Native Catechist 
and his wife were there ; one Batala man had been 
baptized ; and a certain number of children had begun to 
learn a few simple truths. For the rest, Batala was ' a 
stronghold of bigoted Muhammadanism.' 

And the first thing which had to be done was not to 
reap a harvest, 7iot to begin looking for results, but simply 
to plough the hard ground, and thus to make seed-sowing 
a matter of possibility. When the ground was broken and 
softened, then the seed might be sown ; after that, the 
sown seed could be watered, and the harvest patiently 
waited for. 

Almost every letter at this time contains something of 
interest. To quote half of what might be quoted is 
impossible, for lack of space. It seems, however, worth 
while to give fuller records of these early days, when all 
was fresh, and when Miss Tucker's interests were keenly 
awake to her novel surroundings, even though more fulness 
here means some curtailing later. 

A certain change in the style of her letters is observable 
after she reached India, especially in the long series to 
Mrs. Hamilton. Personal matters are pushed very much 
into the background ; while tendencies to introspection or 
to moralisings are almost non-existent. The letters fall 
naturally into a simple record of the work being done. 
She is far too fully occupied with things and people 
around to have any leisure to bestow upon her own 
feelings. Moreover, the mode of expression gains a 
terseness and vigour, not always characteristic of the 
earlier correspondence. 

To write the life of A. L. O. E. at this period is hardly 
possible, without at the same time writing the life of the 
Infant Church at Batala. The one is almost identical 
with the other. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 247 

The house in which their first start was to be made is 
described by Miss Tucker, as will be seen, in somewhat 
glowing terms. She was resolutely bent upon making the 
best of everything, and upon seeing all around through her 
rose-coloured spectacles. There were, however, two sides 
to the question. The ' house,' so called, was in reality an 
old Sikh palace, ' used by Sher Singh, son of Maharajah 
Singh, as a hunting-box.' Sher Singh is said to have 
spent no more than one night in it. The building was 
very substantial, and two-storied. A central room below 
was over thirty feet in length, and another exactly over it 
was of the same size. Other smaller rooms lay around, 
and of these one was chosen for Miss Tucker's bedroom. 
The great, ponderous, creaking doors were difficult to 
close ; and the wind would sweep through them in a 
manner suggestive of chill and rheumatism. In the 
winter months they were very cold and comfortless 
apartments. The name of the old palace was ' Anar- 
kalli.'i 

* When we first used these rooms, during occasional 
visits to Batala,' writes Miss Wauton, ' they were largely 
haunted by owls, bats, and rats ; and it was a long time 
before these occupants understood that they had notice to 
quit the premises. Then it seemed impossible ever to 
make those huge, weird, gloomy-looking rooms at all cosy 
and home-like. However, we did our best with matting, 
screens, and furniture, to make it look habitable. And in 
Miss Tucker's eyes the very strangeness and romance of 
the place made up for its deficiency in warmth and 
comfort.' Mr. Clark also, referring to this large and 
somewhat dreary palace, says of it : ' The winds blew 
through many chinks in the uncurtained doors ; and the 
house was once likened to Eden, because four streams 
flowed through it.' 

^ Meaning ' bud of a pomegranate. ' 



248 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Two days after her arrival she wrote to her favourite 
sister : — 

'Batala, Dec. 8, 1876. 

' Do not connect Batala with any idea of self-sacrifice. I am 
astonished to find myself in such a beautiful home. It is more 
suited for an Earl and Countess than for two lowly Missionaries ; 
and yet our rent is only a little more than £2.0 a year ! Certainly, 
we have had to make that very necessary article, a fireplace, and to 
build servants' huts ; but the house is grand ! It seems unnatural 
to be the lady of it. 

'We do not intend to furnish the room in which I am now sitting, — 
till the fireplace is finished in our smaller room we use this fine apart- 
ment, — but its length is about thirty-six feet. Poor Shere Singh ! 
little he guessed, when he built the fair mansion, that he was but to 
sleep in it for one night, and then be murdered at Lahore ! He never 
dreamed of Mission-books, Bibles, etc., being stored up in those most 
convenient presses in the walls, which add exceedingly to one's 
comfort. For really the native house is not only stately, but 
wondrously comfortable. It seems to me to be decidedly warmer 
than Amritsar bungalow— a matter of real importance to me. It is a 
great deal lighter, and I suspect that in summer it will be cooler also, 
at least in this room, which is splendidly protected from the sun. 

'Another advantage as regards both health and cheerfulness is 
that we live on the first floor, and this first floor is a good height 
from the ground. One first ascends five steps to the substantial 
platform on which the house is built, and then twenty-nine steps to 
our apartments. Florrie and I have each a nice, light, airy bedroom, 
with bathroom attached. We shall soon have a pleasant sitting- 
room, to which this splendid unfurnished apartment will serve as a 
vestibule.' 

' Dec. 9. — I have just come from the City, — we live more than half- 
a-mile out of it, O, my Laura, a wide door is open before us. I was 
told that Batala is a place where we could not read the Bible : but I 
have copied a great deal into my Bible picture-book ; and there is no 
let or hindrance that I can see in showing the pictures, and reading the 
descriptions, which are God's own Word. ... I find that a good way 
to begin, when I enter a house, is by showing off my Zouave.^ . . . 
Every one is delighted with it. A good large group of women and 
children assemble. ... It is harder for me to understand the women, 

1 A clockwork toy. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 249 

than it is for them to understand me, — they sometimes jabber so ; 
and if they mix Panjabi, I am all at sea. In the evenings I intend 
to do a little Panjabi with Florrie ; and in return I teach her to play 
the guitar, I have begun to learn the alphabet, which has thirty-five 
letters. We hope next week to have an Urdu Alunshi ; but I only 
intend to have one hour and a half with him \i.e. daily]. . . . 

' In nine days we hope to make a day's itinerating tour to two 
villages. There are little schools in them, — not of course Christian. 
The poor women here seem inclined to like me, for which I am 
thankful. Florrie told me to-day that she thought she would have 
gone into fits of laughter at what was said of me. My being elderly 
and unmarried seemed to be giving an impression that I was a kind 
of saint or faqir, — perhaps my being thin and wearing my faithful 
old green dress added to the impression. One woman asked me 
whether I had eaten anything that day. Florrie thinks that it was 
from a courteous wish to feed me, if I had not. 

' I arrived here on Thursday,— this is Saturday. Yesterday I saw 
poor, dear B — n at the house of the Catechist. He looked sad ; not 
as he looked in the Amritsar church. I suspect that his Cross is still 
very heavy. . . . 

' I am in excellent health, thank God, and Florrie seems to be 
getting all right again. She and I "pull well together, when yoked 
twain and twain." I have not seen a single white face but hers — not 
even in travelling here — since I left the dear Amritsar bungalow. 
I think that I shall improve more rapidly in the language here than 
if I had remained at my first station. 

'What an extraordinary and somewhat romantic position I am in, 
for an elderly lady, who in her youth hardly ever stirred from a 
London home ! How amazed we should have been when we were 
girls, if we could have known that I was to find my home in an 
Oriental palace — ^afar from all Europeans — and itinerate a little in 
heathen villages ! How good God has been to your loving sister ! ^ 

TO MRS. J. BOSWELL. 

'■Dec. II, 1876. 

' I have not been many days in this my new home, but I could fill 
pages and pages with Batala. My time, however, is precious, and I 
must not waste too much even in writing to dear ones. ... I was 
much struck by an incident which occurred to-day. Four workmen 
are still engaged in making a fireplace for us. This morning, as I 
sat reading, waiting for my Munshi, one of the men stood near, as 



250 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

if silently watching me. I thought this strange ; but, as he was not 
rude, I made no remark but read on. Presently the man said to 
me, "Is that the Gospel?" I said, "Would you like to hear the 
Gospel?" He assented. I read part of Matthew v. ; and the three 
other men came and listened. Afterwards at morning prayer I sat 
very near the open door leading to the room where two of these 
men were working at the fireplace. Two of our Muhammadan 
servants come now regularly to family prayers. The men at the 
fireplace were so perfectly still that I am sure they were listening 
to God's Word. . . . Of course, it is quite optional with the servants 
to attend or not ; and the workmen could easily have drowned my 
voice, if they had chosen to do so. , , . 

' I find my walking Zouave so very useful in opening a way, that 
I much wish for five or six clever clockwork toys, such as would take 
the fancy of natives. . . . The toys should be rather small, and such 
as I could easily show off. The floors are so rough, that I am 
obliged to make my Zouave walk on the top of his own tin box, short 
as it is. I feel the toys, if really clever, so important. . . .' 



TO MRS. E . 

'■Dec. 14, 1876. 

' I dare say that you will be rather curious to know how I like my 
new home. I like it very much indeed. I cannot tell you what the 
city is like ; for though I have been into it every day but to-day, I 
cannot say that I know anything of its general appearance, except 
that the streets are extremely narrow, and that the houses appear to 
be made of brick. The fact is that I never go into the city, except 
shut up in a duli, a kind of box with no window. Unless I push the 
curtain a little back, I see nothing, and nobody can see me. I 
am rather careful about the proprieties ; and to be carried in a box 
is the correct thing. My duli is red ; Florrie's moderately white. 

' Now fancy yourself at my side, dearest Aunt. I will give you a 
kind of rough idea of what is said and done, after my duli has stopped 
at the door of one of the four Zenanas now open to us at Batala. I 
will suppose C. M. T. alone, as she sometimes is. 

' C. M. T. gets out of her box, and enters, — perhaps mounting a 
small, rather dark staircase. Presently she finds herself in a place 
where there are perhaps a dozen or twenty women and children. 

' C. M. T. miles, says, " Salaam," and informs her who seems the 
chief woman that she is happy to see her. A bed or perhaps an arm- 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 251 

chair is politely put for C. M. T. to sit down on. . . . C. M. T. begins by 
showing off a clockwork figure that can walk. Women and children 
look on with curiosity and pleasure. Says C. M. T., "The doll is 
cleverer than the idols ; it can walk." The house being Muhammadan, 
the observation is approved of; and C. M. T. amuses the good folk 
by a few lively remarks as to the doll being weak or tired, etc. 

'Then C. M. T. says, "I have made a very long journey from 
Europe by sea. I have come thousands of miles. Why have I 
come.'"' Silence amongst my auditors. " I have come to give good 
news." They listen with interest. "Jesus Christ came into the 
world to save sinners. This is good news. We are all sinners. 
He died for us," etc. None look angry ; some look pleased ; some 
look tenderly at me, as if they thought me very kind to come such a 
long way to give them good news. 

' Then a Bible picture-book is opened ; perhaps the story of the 
Fall read. Muhammadans believe a great deal of the Old Testa- 
ment ; one can talk to them of " Father Adam," and " Mother Eve," 
without shocking them in the least. I cannot talk much, — very little 
indeed, — but I can say such things as I have written above, and 
tell the dear women that I am happy, that I do not fear death at all, 
because I believe that the Lord bore the punishment of my sins on 
the Cross. 

' I have not met with any discourtesy. There are three things in 
my favour — my age ; my family being of the Sarkar-log ; ^ and my 
receiving no salary. . . . Another thing which seems to awaken a 
sort of interest is the fact of my being unmarried. I have met 
with the idea that there is some merit in celibacy. I repudiated 
it, and said that in our Book marriage is spoken of as an honour- 
able thing.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'Dec. 16, 1876. 

' We never drive in Batala, but on the roads outside. Of course 
we often meet Natives. Some of them salaam to us, and I make a 
point of bowing with marked courtesy when they do so. One feels 
the salaam a breaking of the ice. Those who have exchanged greet- 
ings on the road with us are less likely to shut their doors against the 
polite strangers. Florrie has been admitted into a fifth Zenana to- 
day. The Catechist thinks that after a while there will be more work 
than we can overtake.' 

1 Connected with the Government. 



252 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

TO MRS. J. BOSWELL. 

' Christmas Day, 1876. 

'Is not this a curious life for me? What a contrast Batala is to 
Marylebone ! But I stand up for Batala. This is a capital house, 
in spite of rats. You should see Florrie and me in our tam-tam 
driving along kachcha roads,' the odd-looking conveyance plunging 
up and down or from side to side, like a boat on a rough sea. Or fancy 
me seated in my red duli starting for the city. I remember how I 
looked on the picture of such a red duli, painted on talc, and pitied 
native ladies for having to travel in a box. It really, however, is 
not bad, and it is the only practicable conveyance for the narrow 
streets of Batala.' 

1 Rough roads, unmade roads. 



CHAPTER V 

A.D. 1877 

DISAPPOINTMENTS AND DELAYS 

The year 1877 dawned full of work and full of hope, in 
Batala. Fresh openings were appearing on all sides ; 
and to the four Zenanas which at first could alone be 
entered, others had been already added. Then suddenly 
came a check. Miss Tucker's hard-working companion, 
who had all through suffered much from the Panjab 
climate, broke down, and was ordered off to England. 
For Miss Tucker to remain alone at Batala, without a 
single European companion, could not be thought of; 
and so many Missionaries had been invalided during the 
past unhealthy year, that no one else could possibly be 
spared. She had perforce to return to Amritsar. 

The great disappointment — and very great it was — she 
took patiently, even cheerily. Some considered a few 
months more at Amritsar no bad thing for her or for her 
future work. She had freedom from responsibility, and 
more leisure in consequence for study and for writing. 
Many a short story went forth from her busy pen that 
winter for India's millions. But her eyes were still bent 
longingly upon Batala ; and her whole desire and prayer 
were that she might soon return there again. 

Nor had she to wait long before the granting of her 
wish. Mr. and Mrs. Beutel, then resident at Amritsar, 
were appointed C.M.S. Missionaries at Batala ; and when 

253 



254 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

they went she could go also. Mr. Beutel describes as 
follows the course of events : — 

'One day — it was early in 1877 — after returning from a preaching- 
place in the city (Amritsar), I met Miss Tucker on my way home. 
She was glad to see me, and then told me of her intention of going to 
settle at Batala, provided that my wife and I were willing and prepared 
to go with her. After a while this was sanctioned, and consequently 
we left Amritsar for Batala in April, and settled in the old house 
. . . which is still used for the Christian Boarding School. It then 
looked like a haunted house, inhabited by owls, — which regularly had 
a dance in the loft almost every night ! — bats and wasps, etc. Miss 
Tucker occupied the one wing of the upper story, and we the other. 
The centre-hall served as a dining-room. She was our daily boarder. 

'As a rule she rose very early in the morning. After her morning 
walk, service, and breakfast, she regularly went out into the city, to 
see and teach some women in their houses, occasionally accompanied 
by my wife. Now and then she also paid visits, like myself, to the 
villages in the neighbourhood. As a rule the afternoons were filled 
up by her with the study of the language, reading and writing, etc. 

' But, alas ! not quite two months had passed, when both Miss 
Tucker and my wife were laid up with fever. The chief cause of 
this, as the Doctor afterwards explained, seemed to be the stagnant 
water almost all around the house ; and he ordered them both away 
as quickly as possible. Consequently we all returned to Amritsar 
by the end of May 1877, and settled again in our old quarters. 

' As soon as the hot season was over, we all went back to Batala, 
a second time. The condition of the house was as bad as before ; 
but Miss Tucker immediately offered her help, and I set about fifty 
people to work. The ground near the house was soon raised about 
two feet or more ; and consequently the place became more healthy, 
so that this time we could stay there all the winter, doing our work 
as before.' 

After a few months, however, came a renewed check. 
Mr. Beutel was required for work in Amritsar ; and when 
he and his wife left Batala, Miss Tucker had to leave also. 
Once more she was obliged to settle down for a term of 
patient waiting and study at Amritsar. 

Not till the spring of 1878 was any really permanent 
arrangement made. Then a school of Panjabi boys was 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 255 

removed from Amritsar to the old palace, under the 
presidency of the Rev. Francis Baring ; and Miss Tucker 
went to live under the same roof, to carry on the work 
among women of Batala. Thenceforward her home was 
at Batala to the end. Throughout the year 1877 she had 
much of doubt and disappointment to endure ; but her 
brave trustfulness never broke down under the strain. 
Charlotte Tucker was a thoroughly loyal soldier of the 
Cross, — willing to go, or willing to stay, as her Master 
might dictate. Her heart's desire was to live and toil 
in Batala ; but a yet deeper desire of her whole being was 
to carry out His Will, whatever that Will might be. 
The Centurion's words, ' I am a man under authority,' 
may be cited as peculiarly applicable to her. If God's 
Will for her were Amritsar, not Batala, she would be 
content. 

For a short time, seemingly, things were so ; but not 
for long. Fresh plans in 1878 would make all clear. 
Meanwhile some months of change and uncertainty did 
no harm. They were but part of the polishing of the 
golden staff of her Will, — to revert to her own allegory of 
earlier days. 

The history of these months, beginning with the time 
when she was first at Batala with Miss Swainson, will best 
be told by occasional extracts from the abundance of 
letters remaining. 

TO MISS ' LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'Batala, Jan. 4, 1877. 

' Here we are in a regular " fix," as the boys would say, — no bread 
nor butter in the house, and with the probability of a grand lady, a 
Commissioner's wife, coming to-day, perhaps to stop the night. Pity 
the sorrows of — of ladies twenty miles from civilised life. I 'm not 
housekeeper, so I can laugh ; but poor dear F'lorrie ! ! You can feel 
for her. This is how we got into the fix. 



256 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OE 

'We settled on to-day, Thursday, for a general giving of prizes in 
the six City schools. Several pounds have been spent on prizes, and 
Florrie and I were for hours yesterday ticketing and preparing them. 
The prize-giving is of real importance ; for we give prizes instead of 
money, as the Government gives. To throw eclat on the affair, we 
asked Mrs. T. to give the prizes away, which she kindly consented 
to do. A note was sent to her on Tuesday morning by a kahar,^ 
to tell her the day, and the kahar was to bring back bread and 
butter, which we have always to get from Amritsar, twenty-four 
miles off. 

'Thursday morning, the grand morning, has arrived, — nay, it is 
nearly eleven o'clock, and the children of six schools, their teachers 
and their mothers, and perhaps scores of women besides, will be on the 
tiptoe of expectation, — and our kaJiar has never returned \ ! ! We 
don't know whether Mrs. T. is coming ; we don't know whether she 
is sticking half-way on the road, waiting for the horse which we 
offered to send twelve miles, if she required it ! Like the famous 
little pig, we have eaten all the bread and butter ; and if the grand 
lady arrives — without that faithless kahar — what shall we give her to 
eat ? I urged Florrie at least to send to the city for meat ; but she 
fears that in the absence of the cook the guest may arrive. 

' O dear ! O dear ! Why did we trust that sust- kahar, — or eat up 
all the bread? O how shall the bari Bibi ever be fed ? I must go 
and try to cheer up poor Florrie, who suffers from her head, in 
addition to being in this " fix." I must tell you how the matter ends 
afterwards. 

' Don't fancy we 're starving ! Oh, nothing like it ! We had a 
famous breakfast, chapatties,^ eggs, etc. We don't starve ! 

''Later. — No one has appeared. No tidings either of lady or 
kahar ; but Florrie has sent for meat. She told me that the poor 
children had said that they would be ready at 7 A.ar. If so, they 
must be rather tired by this time, nearly 11^ A.ivr. . . . 

''Later. — The kahar came at last, and brought the provisions, and 
a note from Mrs. T. to say that she is coming to-morrow. 

''Jan. 6. — I was rather glad when yesterday's grand affair was over. 
As we had two dulis for three ladies, we had to manage by Florrie 
always going first, — i.e. she proceeded to School 2, while we lingered 
at No, I — to School 3, while we stopped at 2, etc. I had to try 
to amuse and show off the children to Mrs. T. during the waiting 

1 Duli-carrier. 2 i^jig ;? i, j^t cakes of bread. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 257 

time, which sometimes seemed rather long, especially where the girls 
would not sing. In vain I started even a bhajan ^ in one of the schools. 

TO MR. AND MRS. CHARLES TUCKER. 

' Bat ALA, Jan. 6, 1877. 

' How well I can fancy you in your home, with the wide blue 
expanse of Ontario stretching in front. I suppose the world looks 
very white with you just now ; with us it is pretty green. We have 
no garden, but our large house stands in the country, without any 
enclosure. Herds of goats or strings of camels could pass near to 
our mansion. There is certainly not much noise of carriages. Here 
the sight of a dak-gari is somewhat rare ; and in the city I have 
never seen any wheel vehicle, except bullock-carts in the wider 
streets. We can sometimes hardly get through the narrow streets 
in our duli ; and I am not aware that there are any other dulis in 
Batala except that of the Catechist's wife. 

' Very funny things we hear of ourselves ; and I dare say many 
funny things are said that we do not hear. In one place which my 
companion visited, in company with E., the Catechist's wife, she 
overheard the remark that she — Miss Swainson — was the husband, 
and E. her bibi. I think that I excite more curiosity than my 
companion on account of my age. On account, I suppose, of an 
Englishwoman with any silver hair being a rarity in India, I seem to 
be sometimes considered wonderfully old. Florrie told me that she 
had heard the women talking as they might have done had I been a 
hundred years old. 

'One day I wore brown kid gloves. My hands were looked at 
with surprise. I suppose that the women wondered why I should 
have brown hands and a white face. I pulled oft my gloves, and this 
seemed a new cause for surprise. Natives are very curious. One . . . 
young man of good family acts as my Munshi. He told me to-day 
that his aunt wished to know whether I have any salary. How 
astonished we should be if French or drawing masters asked such 
questions in England ! I have been asked what salary my nephew 
receives. My being unmarried makes me doubly an object of 
curiosity to the Hindu women. 

'A poor woman came the other day to see us, and brought us some 

common yellow flowers. I did not at all admire them, but I thought 

it only courteous to accept so small a present graciously. Miss 

Swainson did not like to accept the flowers — I did not know why. . . . 

1 Native song, or h}Tiin set to Native tune. 

R 



258 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

She told me afterwards that she was afraid they were brought as 
religious offerings, — flowers are what are used for such offerings, — 
and she had heard repeatedly that we are ' devi.' ^ What gross, 
fearful ignorance 1 I heard on good authority that in one place in 
India, not the Panjab, offerings are actually made to a dead European, 
who was a special object of dread to the Natives, and whom they 
therefore wish to propitiate as a kind of demon ! Do not the poor, 
deluded creatures want teachers ? I find the women in general very 
gentle and courteous, and quite willing to listen when they are 
spoken to on the subject of religion. With the men — except of course 
the servants — we have little to do.' 



TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

' Batala, Jan. 9. 

' Florrie and I hired four extra kahars, took earlier breakfast, and 

started this morning for O , the village in which, as you may 

remember, I encamped for two or three days with my Margaret, 
about ten or twelve months ago. 

' We started on foot, as it was not at all too hot for a walk ; and 
though we never walk in the city, we have no objection to doing so 
in the country. Our dulis, white and red, with eight kahars, followed 
us. When we had walked about a mile, whom should we meet but 
the postman, with the English letters ! I popped the rest of the 
things into the duli, but read my Laura's despatch as I walked along 
the dusty lane. Very many thanks both to you and to dearest Leila. 
The bonnet has not yet arrived, — I dare say it will be very elegant, 
— and yet, as v/ell as the bag, owe its chief value to the love sewn up 
in it. Your lovely tidies ornament my Batala home. 

'When F. and I returned from the village, being rather tired of 
going about twelve miles in a canvas box, — of course there is no 
seat in it ; one sits half-Oriental style on a kind of coarse carpet, — I 
got out to walk the last mile home.' 

'Amritsar, Jan. 13. — My note to dear Leila will tell you of the 
change which now a good deal engrosses my mind. You did not like 
my going to Batala ; and as far as we can see, our Heavenly Father 
does not intend us to remain there. He is Wisdom ; and what to us 
seems mysterious and trying must in the end be seen to be right. . . . 

'Ah, well, it is doubtless good to have the branches shaken, on 
which we perch ; and happily I have built no elaborate nest.' 

1 Divinities. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 259 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

' Batala, Jan. 20. 

' I am writing in such a dismantled room, making a table of a chair, 
and sitting on the floor. My luggage went off yesterday — such a 
quantity ! My big boxes and little boxes, chairs, tables, almira, sofa, 
etc. I do not intend to unpack more than I can help, for I rather hope 
to have another move before long, — a move back to dear Batala. . . . 

' I have been round to the six schools and three Zenanas, explaining 
the sad cause of our sudden departure. I have found sympathy and 
kindness. On three faces at least there were tears. Facts are often 
more eloquent than words ! The Batala people have seen B — n 
suffering keen anguish for Christ's sake ; they see that the property 

which was 's is his no more, for Christ's sake. They have seen 

two ladies going fearlessly, trustingly, amongst them, one of them old, 
and the other so ill that she has fairly broken down in her work — for 
Christ's sake ! These things may tell more even than preaching. . . . 
With God's blessing Batala will yet be ours. 

' Strange to say, the Mission has just bought a house in the midst 
of the City ; not hired, but bought it out and out. I went over it 
yesterday. . . . There is room on that ground to build a church on. 
And, please God, we shall have a church there some day. Nil 
desperanduut.^ 

To another she wrote on the same day : ' It seems very 
sad, when there had been such a promising beginning ; a 
new and interesting Zenana opened to me only yesterday ; 
and I must quit Batala to-day, for one lady cannot stay 
by herself. But I am not in the least discouraged. I 
believe that the Almighty will not suffer the Mission to be 
permanently broken up. He will send some one to take 
poor Florrie's place ; and then I am ready, at twenty-four 
hours' notice, to return to my post. I hear that the women 
are very sorry for our going. I have myself seen tears on 
brown faces.' Her confident hope was soon to come true. 

' Mission Bungalow, Jan. 29. — Here I am, back again in my 
nice large room. My nieces would have it so, and made all 
arrangements during my absence. ... I must tell dear Leila what 
C. H. said one day, absurd as it sounds ; but it was a compliment to 
her work, therefore I repeat it. " How bonny the Auntie looks in her 



26o THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

new bonnet ! " There is a bit of flattery, spoken for once by one 
who is particularly plain-spoken ! But it was the bonnet that was 
bonny, not your loving old sister.' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'•March 5, 1877. 
' Many thanks to you and your sweet Mother for your loving notes 
and the Illustr-ated. I am glad that I have not been sent FroggyPs 
Brother. Not only am I afraid of shedding one useless tear ; but I 
seem to have scarcely any time for reading what is unconnected with 
my work, I have begun the Koran, which will be rather a tedious 
task, — only in English, — but I think it well to read it, and a few books 
of manners and customs. Then I have two Munshis ; and with my 
imperfect memory, I must be perpetually going over and over what I 
learn, so as not to lose it. Then I ought to write, whenever I can, 
and visit Natives a little ; and we have so many interruptions. The 
day passes so fast; and perhaps at the end one feels — "What has 
been done? — how little ! " But as for sitting down to amuse oneself 
with an English story-book, — how can that be done by your attached 
old Missionary Auntie ?' 

TO W. F. T. HAMILTON. 

'■March 9, 1877. 

' I am about a very tedious work, reading through the Koran in 
English. I think that it may be very desirable for me to be able to 
say — " I have read your Koran right through." But, oh, how sleepy 
one gets over the book ! It is so full of repetitions ; the same ideas 
and stories over and over again. I am perfectly well, and the weather 
is now charming,— such a comfort to get rid of the cold ! — but I 
believe that I twice this forenoon went to sleep, simply from reading 
the Koran. I read and read, then leant back in my comfortable 
chair, and took a nap ! 

' The poor Muhammadans must get a painful idea of the Almighty 
from their book. It seems almost a mockery to head almost every 
"Sura" with "In the Name of God the Compassionate, the Merciful." 
One is so perpetually reading of the torments of unbelievers, the 
fires of Gehenna, etc. ! Our Lord is written of with great respect, and 
His Birth regarded as quite miraculous ; but the Muhammadans will 
not believe Him to be the " Son of God." There is a great deal about 
Abraham, Moses, Joseph, etc., in the Koran ; Old Testament stories 
altered and enlarged upon, to suit Muhammadan tastes. I have met 
with no reference to the Blood of Atonement ; in the account of the 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 261 

Exodus, given over and over, there is no allusion to the Paschal 
Lamb ; Muhammadanism appears as a religion of works. 

' It would seem to me to be a dreary kind of religion, and well 
suited to make men hard and stern. Of the three religions in the 
Panjab, I think Sikhism by far the best ; but then the race of those 
who profess it in purity seems to be dying away. . . . The Enemy 
would not leave poor Man even the scraps of Truth bequeathed by 
the noble Guru Nanak. It is a sad pity. Hearts which had only 
known pure Sikhism might have formed a rich soil to receive the seed 
of the Gospel.' 

Early in March it was arranged, to her great joy, that 
before the close of the month she might expect to be 
back in Batala again, living there with ]\Ir. and Mrs. 
Beutel. When the time came, the roads being especially 
bad with the heavy rains. Miss Tucker performed her 
journey from Amritsar to Batala in what she called 'a most 
luxurious conveyance, — the big, heavy Government dak 
gari,^ in which one can recline at ease, as if in a bed.' The 
twenty-four miles' drive proved, howevqr, to be not altogether 
luxurious ; for on the worst and roughest part of the road 
the whole gari went over on its side, — ' one big wheel aloft, 
another big wheel below.' Miss Tucker being entirely 
unhurt, thought mainly of the safety of her desks and of 
her ' dear travelling clock.' She found them, to her great 
relief, ' quite serene,' as serene as she was herself in her 
'funny position,' — the clock ticking placidly on, undisturbed 
by the jar. Describing the scene afterwards, she continued : 

'A number of men came to the aid of our forlorn conveyance, 
down in the mud. The horses were of course released from 
the traces. Many hands make light work ; so, with a good deal 
of pushing and shouting and tamasha, the carriage was set up again 
on its wheels. I got out, thinking that I should have to trudge 
through the mud on foot, carr\nng my clock in my hand. But I 
was not obliged to make my entry into my palace in so humble a 
fashion. I was able to re-enter the gari. Of course, I presented the 
natives with a reward.' 

1 A kind of post-chaise. 



262 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

^ April 14, 1877. — I wrote to our Commissioner to ask his per- 
mission for fish to be caught in the large tank, close to which our 
mansion is built. He politely replied that we were welcome to fish 
with hook and line, but that a net is prohibited. I am rather amused 
to find that our dear, kind-hearted Germans cannot bear to give to 
the fish the suffering which a hook would inflict. I think that we 
shall do without fish. 

'Such stormy — oh, such stormy weather as we have had, night 
after night ! There have been such thunder and lightning, and 
rushing blast, and banging of doors and windows, as if in this 
great echoing house there were pistol practice. . . . Those Indian 
unmanageable doors and windows are the worst of it, particularly 
if any inmate of the house has headache or fever. One wanders 
about in the dark, — perhaps helped by the lightning, — to find the 
region of a door that is the chief offender. The one which I 
managed to shut in the night, for the first time since my coming 
chose to shut itself in the morning, so that neither I nor my Ayah 
could open it. Some one had to go round by another route to lift 
the latch, which had gone down without being touched.' 

In the same letter, speaking of a young Indian, who had 
eagerly said to her that ' the Bible is the light of our eyes, 
and the root of our faith,' she sadly remarked that it was 
' almost sickening ' to think what the young Muhammadan 
' would have to endure, did he openly confess Christ,' — 
even while earnestly hoping that he would be constrained 
' by the cords of love ' to leave all and come forward. 

TO INIISS LAURA V. TUCKER. 

'May 2, 1877. 

'Thanks many, darling Laura, for your dear, sweet letter. You 

speak of the flowers. Ah, if I could but give you a sight of the 

glorious pink water-lilies or lotuses out of our nice tank ! I am not 

sure, however, whether I would not change them for — cabbages ; 

certainly I would for cauliflowers. It is not very easy to get our 

vegetables, twenty miles away from an English garden. However, 

V. brought two cucumbers to-day, — a welcome sight, — and a 

Native presented us with some kelas,^ — more welcome still. My 

experience is that fruit and vegetables are particularly conducive to 

health in India. 

1 Bananas. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 263 

'You may rejoice to hear that we have got rid of our very wicked 
cook. . , . But it is funny to have no cook at all I ! Mrs. Beutel's old 
mother does all the cooking ; perhaps j\Irs. Beutel helps a little ; 
and it puts her quite into spirits. If we were not likely to go into 
Amritsar in ten or eleven days, I think that we should be obliged to 
procure a cook. It is a most unusual thing for Europeans to cook 
in a Panjab May ; every day likely to get warmer and warmer ! And 
if Mrs. J. fell ill, as she did last year — her daughter is constantly 
off and on with fever — where should we be ? In a laughable dilemma, 
I should say ; for I don't think that Mr. Beutel could cook ; and I 
am sure that /can't! I forget — "can't"' is not a Missionary word ! 
But I really don't see w^hat I could do, except boil eggs ; we have 
plenty of them. You know that Fairy Frisket did not fancy a 
kitchen ! 

' We have bread brought in regularly ; for I did not think the 
heavy, solid German home-made bread suitable for India. The 
bread we get is so beautifully light. I do not know exactly where it 
comes from, — I fancy from Gurdaspur or Amritsar. I am not 
housekeeper. 

' What a greedy letter this seems I so much about eatables I But 
it may help you to picture to yourself life at Batala. I am very 
happy here.' 

The end of May found her back again in Amritsar, but 
by no means downhearted. The fresh check was evidently 
regarded by Miss Tucker as only temporary. 

''May 30. — It does my heart good to see Emily walking off to her 
work, perhaps at 6 a.m., so brave and bright, with firm, elastic 
tread. . . . Sweet Margaret has been very unwell. She looks too 
much like the statue of an angel in white marble. But she is better 
again ; and if we can coax her back to her old quarters here, and pet 
her to any extent — her medicine — I think that she may weather the 
hot weather well. 

' As I have little need of a separate kahar here, I was advised to 
part with V. I tried to do so, but I really could not. The poor 
fellow pleaded, — it was so hard to get work, — and I remember how 
miserable he looked when out of situation before. Then he is a 
married man, and such an intelligent, faithful creature.^ So I gave 
in ! It seems to me very hard to cast off good servants, just because 
the perpetual changing about makes one rather a supernumerar}^ 

1 This, unhappil}', proved later to be a mistaken estimate. 



264 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

V. is invaluable to me at Batala ; and I hope to return to Batala. 
I was rather pleased at C.'s pleading for his companion. He seemed 
quite eloquent ; but I confess that I did not understand much 
of his eloquence ; only he evidently did not want poor V, to be cut 
adrift. I would at any time, if troubles arose, trust my life either to 
C. or V. I get quite interested in some of the servants, and they seem 
to be really affectionate. They are much like children.' 

'Amritsar, June ir, 1877.— Emily said quietly to me yesterday, 
" You certainly have wonderful health." Not that I was well during 
my last trying time at Batala ; but I have surprised my friends by 
getting all right again so very rapidly. The heat is very moderate as 
yet. I have only once this year had the thermometer in my sleeping 
room up to 90''. It seldom rises above 85° or 86°, which is nothing.' 

''June 22. — The banyan-tree has dropped its brown leaves at last. 
Fancy a tree waiting till May or June before it will put off its old 
dress ! It waits till all its new leaves are well out ; and in mid- 
summer throws off the withered ones. It is a grand tree ; the one 
here is a fine one, but not to be compared to the one at Batala. 

' The quite new school at Batala, the first Boys' School in which 
Christianity is taught, has already risen to 175 pupils. The house is 
too small, and I. D.^ is going to give up his for it, and take another. 
The religious instruction has been given by three natives.' 

''June 30. — Dear Emily is done up. She actually asked me for an 
amusing book, feeling evidently fit for little but to lie on the sofa and 
read. She overworks, and the season tells on her. When dear Leila 
happens to be writing to Bella Frances, would she kindly ask her to 
send me by post " Fairy Know-a-bit," and " Fairy Frisket," and 
" Pride and his Prisoners," my funniest tales. We have three trying 
months at least to come ; and I want to keep my ladies as cheerful 
as I can. They have not much time for reading, except when poorly, 
and then a lausrh is medicine.' 



*t>' 



''July 2. — The work is going on at Batala, love, though we are 
absent. The Bible-woman, lately sent, who was here to-day, has 
access into nearly double the number of zenanas that Florrie and I 
had. There is also daily bazaar-preaching ; and I. D. tells me 
that he has great hopes from the new Batala Boys' School, where 
the little lads listen readily to daily religious instruction. The 
women, I hear, want me back ; but I do not see my way to returning 

1 The Catechist. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 265 

till the rains are over. It would not do to dwell in a house which 
might be surrounded by water.' 

''July 14. — It was so nice last Wednesday welcoming my dharm- 
nephew ^ back to Amritsar. Dharm is a good word to distinguish my 
Missionary relatives from my relatives by birth. A Godmother is a 
Dharm-vi\2A. The Natives themselves have put me up to adopting the 
distinction. One of them asked Emily after me as her " dharm-poti. ' 
(religion-aunt). My dharm-nephew was only two days in Amritsar ; 
he is off to Dhamsala, to be out of the heat of the plains. He looked 
better than I had hoped to see him, and just his own bright self 

TO 

'July 20, 1877. 

' Mr. Clark told us the other evening that he had had an hour's 
interview with a Brahmin, who has come from beyond Benares. 
This man's views remind one of the Brahmo Somaj ; but God grant 
that this Hindu may find more light than those Hindu Unitarians 
ever found. He is a man of great courage ; he has flung aside the 
prejudices of his caste ; he vehemently opposes idol-worship, and 
will readily eat with Christians. One of his special difficulties in 
regard to our faith is, I believe, the difficulty of reconciling God's 
justice with the punishment of the Innocent. The Brahmin is a 
gifted, eloquent man, and many go to hear him. 

' ]Margaret and I were taking a moonlight drive after the heat of 
the day, with lightning flickering in the sky, when we passed a house 
in which I knew that the Brahmin has taken up his abode. It is 
some little way out of the city, and is a European bungalow. I 
pointed out to Margaret a little crowd in the compound, in the 
picturesque white Oriental costume, and told her that it was formed 
of those who were listening to the preacher. 

' Margaret stopped the carriage, and we tried to catch the words 
which could reach us at the distance. They were, however, few ; so 
we got out of the carriage, and without going near the crowd drew a 
little nearer and nearer to the place where the Brahmin was address- 
ing his audience. We were still too far off to hear much, and there 
was too much of Hindi mixed with his Urdu to make his language 
clear ; but we could see the man's eloquent, animated gestures, and 
hear the rich tones of his voice. 

' It was a very picturesque scene ; the mingled torchHght, moon- 
light, and heat-lightning, — the quaint, white-robed crowd, — the man 

1 The Rev. Rowland Bateman, just recovered from severe illness. 



266 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

who has dared to break through so much, who calls himself a Luther, 
telling idolaters of the folly of idol-worship. I should think that 
it would be wise to place in communication with this remarkable 
man some of our most talented converts from Hinduism — not 
Muhammadanism.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''Aug. II, 1877. — I missed a grand opportunity the other day of 
killing a centipede. It lay so quiet, as if to invite me to make my- 
self illustrious. But I hate crunching creatures, so called out for 
some one to kill my centipede. ... It is not fear of being bitten, 
but dislike of killing. The ladies think that it would not do for 
me to keep house, for that I should spoil the servants. I did give 
C. a decided rebuke the other day for beating his wife. He pro- 
mised me to be kind in future.' 

''Aug. 13. — I have this morning received my precious Laura's 
letter, with a request for a certain prayer— which I shall certainly 
remember. If a feeling of fear comes over my Laura, it must surely 
be as regards the act of departure, not what follows ; for there is 
"no condemnation" to Christ's people, no death in the real sense of 
the word. 

' But why, love, should we fear the act of departing ? How many, 
many, pass Jordan, as it were, dry-shod 1 Remember how peacefully 
sweet Fanny sank to rest, — dearest Mother, — how my Letitia's face 
was lighted up with a smile, — how our Bible-woman at Batala sang 
aloud a happy hymn within a few hours of her going ! To me it 
seems such a simple thing for the — I had almost said imprisoned 
soul, to leave its " cottage of clay," — for the bird, as soon as fledged, 
to spread its wings ! We are winged creatures, and it seems a 
humiliation to be creeping on earth so long. Only think what the 
first sight of the Lord will be ! I am not sure whether some 
departing ones do not see Him before the last breath is drawn.' 



CHAPTER VI 

A.D. 1877-1878 
A BROWN AND WHITE 'HAPPY FAMILY' 

Though Miss Tucker had by no means fallen in love 
with Dalhousie during her former visit to the Hills, she 
was again this August to be, as she said, ' almost trapped ' 
into going there. Mrs. Elmslie, albeit in need of rest, 
could not leave a child in the Orphanage who was 
dangerously ill, perhaps dying ; and Miss Wauton, worn 
out with heavy toil through the very hot weather, impera- 
tively needed change, yet was in no condition to manage 
the long distance alone. Miss Tucker therefore resolved 
to go with her ; and the two started off in company, Miss 
Tucker in her duli, Miss Wauton on a pony. They 
travelled slowly, with frequent rests by the way, so as to 
extend the usual two days' hard journeying into six days 
of easy advance. On August 22, before leaving Amritsar, 
Miss Tucker wrote : — 

'Man has been described as a "laughing animal," "a cooking 
animal," to distinguish him from the lower creation. I would suggest 
"a packing animal," for neither birds nor beasts — except the 
elephant — have anything to do with filling trunks ! What an amount 
of packing I have had in the last two and a half years ! Of course, 
these thoughts are suggested by my present business of packing for 
the Hills. 

' One must be prepared for all sorts of weather, for burning heat, 
bitter cold, or furious rain. One may have all three in the course of 
a week. Then one must prepare — as for an attack of cavalry — for a 

267 



268 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

dinner-invitation from the Commissioner's wife. One is pretty certain 
that one will meet some worldly folk, who are inclined to think 
Natives "niggers," Converts hypocrites, and Missionaries half-rogues 
and half-fools ; so that one must not " appear as a scrub." I do 
not wonder that the weary Emily wants to keep in the jungle as 
long as she can. Ah ! if we could but keep in the jungle all the 
time, I need not pack up my "Conference Cream," ^ nor my faithful 
moire antique. There would be some fun in meeting with a cheetah 
or a hyena, — I should not like a bear unless there were a kud^ 
between us, — but I shrink from the world and his wife. However, 
Missionaries, like sailors, are bound for all weathers. . . . 

' If it won't shock dear , I think that I must give you a laugh 

over a funny little story, which was told me the other day as a true 
one. A very attractive Scotch clergyman was teased in the same 
way that the Energetic used to be. At last a — one can't call her 
lady, actually wrote to offer him "her purse, her hand, and her 
heart." The cream of the story is the clergyman's reply. He wrote 
to his silly sheep : " I advise you to give your heart to God, your 
purse to the poor, and your hand to him who asks for it." Was it 
not clever.? I hope that the lady profited by the pastoral rebuke, 
though she can hardly have enjoyed it. . . . 

' Thanks for the paper about the Telephone. But I hope that 
we may not hear our Queen's voice by it, if it is to sound like a 
trombone.' 

From Dinaira, a place some twenty-two miles short of 
Dalhousie, she wTote : — 

' There is something more soothing to the eye in the softly wooded 
mountains in which we are now cradled, than in the cold, stern white 
peaks, seen higher up. The great want is water. One sees the rough, 
almost precipitous, channels of mountain torrents, but there is not a 
drop trickling in them. The land suffers sorely from drought. The 
early crops were partly spoilt by furious storms, the second crops are 
threatened with destruction by the failure of the rains. A peasant 
saw me yesterday very slowly getting down rather a rough bit, and 
with kindly courtesy came and offered me the help of his brown 
hand. He almost immediately afterwards began to speak of the 
want of rain ; it is the uppermost thought amongst the poor, dear 
people. . . . 

' I feel that I was rather ungrateful last year about Dalhousie. 

1 Cream-coloured dress worn at a Conference. ^ Precipice or ravine. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER i^yc) 

Though I do not like the place much, it is a very great blessing to 
have it.' 

' Dalhousie, Sept. 3, 1877. — This ought to be a good day for letter- 
writing; for it is like an exaggerated November day in England : rain 
more violent ; wind more furious. ... I amuse our ladies by my indigna- 
tion at one of our best hands, Miss H. of J , deserting us for matri- 
mony. Merrily laughed the bonny blue-bell at my proposition that, 
in addition to the fine of ^100 imposed on Mission Miss Sahibas who 
marry within three years of coming out, it should be part of the 
contract that they should have all their hair shaved off on the day 
before the wedding. Don't you approve, dear ? In the Strathclyde, 
beside Miss F. and myself, there were four Mission Miss Sahibas 
going out for the first time. One of the four has gone home, 
invalided ; two have married ; only my noble Miss G. remains in 
the field ! It is a great deal worse when experienced Missionaries 
marry ; we do not know how to supply their places. . . . 

' You must not fancy that we have always weather like this in the 
hills. When we first arrived, and for days afterwards, the weather 
was lovely, July in the middle of the day, October at night. The 
scenery was glorious. I hope, however, that I may get back next 
week. I intend to travel rapidly, as I travel alone.' 

A few days afterwards saw Miss Tucker back in 
Amritsar ; and later in the same month she went all the 
long journey to Murree, giving herself only six days of 
absence, to be present at the wedding of her nephew, 
Louis Tucker. Thence she again returned to Amritsar. 
Exciting events had happened at Amritsar during even 
that absence, in the shape of fresh Baptisms and fresh 
persecutions. In October she was once more off on a 
short itinerating tour through villages. A letter written 
on the first of October refers to the Batala work, of which 
her heart was full. 

' Mr. Beutel told me with regret that Mr. Baring, on account of low 
funds, had desired him* on Nov. ist to stop two village-schools near 
Batala, in which 50 or 60 boys are receiving instruction. I had my 
Laura's ^5 — grown to ^^5, los. — half of her handsome gift, of which 
Margaret has the other half. This will keep the village schools 
going till April ; and by that time, please God, others may send 
help. . . . People do not seem to care for village schools. Govern- 



270 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

ment does not. And the people — our dear Natives — are so anxious 
to have them. The nicest boys seem the village ones.' 

An undated letter belongs, probably, to about this time. 

' I think I mentioned to you that a troop of guests invaded my 
poor Margaret almost in the middle of the night, 3 A.M. She had 
too much bustle, too much discomfort. She fell ill, as was almost to 
be expected ; but I left her up again, and going to work. When she 
was lying on her sick-bed, — lovely she looked, with her soft pink 
cheeks, and her long golden hair hanging loose, — I went and had a 
chat with her. She has had too few chats with those whom she 
loves since going to live at the Orphanage. . . . Says Margaret, 
" What caps are you going to take to your nephew's ?" " Oh, killing 
caps," said I. Perhaps they would look killing if Margaret wore 
them ! She would not believe me, — her playful banter, her arch 
smile, so reminded me of viy Laura ! Margaret went on exactly as 
you would have done. She was certain that my velvet cap must 
want a new ruche ; would I send over a whole set of caps for her to 
improve? It would amuse her, she said. The Doctor came in, 
when I was having one of my playful chats with Margaret ; and he 
highly approved of my giving her a little laugh. . . . She called me 
" sparkling champagne." There is a fine name for a Missionary 
Miss Sahiba ! Fancy my discovering one day that, in her crowded 
little dwelling, she had so emptied herself of needful comforts, that 
she had not so much as a basin to wash in. If she wished to wash 
her hands, she must stoop or kneel to perform the ablution in her 
bath ! Off went I to the city, and procured a toilette-set for our 
house in Batala, which Margaret has the use of till we go, — when I 
hope that she will return to the Bungalow.' 

The above must have been written before her visit to 
Murree, already mentioned. By the middle of October she 
was on the point of again starting for Batala ; and she 
wrote cheerily beforehand, on the 15th : — 

' Many, many thanks to my own sweet Laura for the pretty sketch 
of what was once to me a very happy home. I am so pleased that 
your hand has not lost its skill. I am in great hopes that, like 
myself, you may have renewed vigour as you walk down the incline 
of life's hill. My companions here wonder at me. In another month 
I shall have been two years in India, — only two months, journeys 
included, .spent in the Hills ; all the remaining twenty-two in the 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 271 

Plains, with one peculiarly unhealthy season, and another of 
unusually prolonged heat ; — and yet I am just as strong and well 
as if I had been just sauntering about an English garden all the 
time. . . . 

' I am considered to have a w^onderful constitution ; and as my 
Laura is my own sister, I always hope that she has one also. . . . 

'Take no fears about Batala. Fear is another thing with which 
Missionaries should have nothing to do. It seems to me that English 
folk in India rather change in character. I never imagined the 
effect of being in a land like this, where you belong to a conquering 
race. I must not just say that no one seems afraid of anything, for 
that would be an exaggeration ; but physical courage seems to come 
quite naturally. Those who might be timid girls in England fear- 
lessly travel at night, quite alone — save for the company of wild- 
looking natives, — through lonely mountain-passes, perhaps through 
lightning and storm, with the possibility of meeting cheetahs, bears, 
and snakes. I feel no more afraid of being at Batala, with or 
without Mr. Beutel, than you would of sleeping in a London hotel' 

FROM MRS. ELMSLIE TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'Oct. 18, 1877. 

' I have just returned from seeing our darhng off to Batala. I 
know you will be sorry to hear she has gone there again ; and Miss 
Wauton, Mr. Clark, and I have tried hard to prevent it, — in vain ! 
She thinks it her duty to go, and she makes it her pleasure. How 
we miss her here, I cannot tell you. She is beloved and honoured by 
rich and poor, young and old. She is our Sunshine. Her bright 
fancies, her quick perceptions, her wise suggestions, are invaluable 
to all of us in the Mission. 

'While she frets over her want of power in speaking Urdu and 
Panjabi, we are rejoicing, not only in her power of writing for the 
people, but in her wonderful perception of the national character, her 
insight into the weaknesses and also into the virtues of our Native 
friends. Christian and heathen. Her loving, unselfish ways are 
wonderfully soothing and sustaining ; and life has seemed to me 
a different thing since God brought her to us. 

' She has been wonderfully free of fever during the past year ; and 
the excitability which used to make me anxious has quite passed 
away. I think she has been looking quite lovely of late ; the 
expression of her dear face has been so restful, so sweet, so angel-like. 
She has been a little less thin too, and has been wearing more 



272 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

becoming caps and bonnets. We find it necessary to look after her 
in such sublunary things ; and many a laugh she has at our anxiety 
about her appearance. You asked me to tell you of anything 
she ever needs ; and I think you may like to know that she has 
no intermediate dress for everyday use ; nothing between the dark 
green cashmere and a very pale kind of Chinese silk. 

' A light material of a rather dark grey colour, nicely made up with 
a tunic bodice and belt, would be very useful to her. But what 
would she say to me, if she thought I had written this ? Another 
thing is a feather pillow. Such a thing is not to be had in India ; 
and her dear head is, I am sure, often tired. We put our only one into 
her gari just now, hoping she would not notice it. Off went her 
coach, and we were so pleased to think it was with her, but she found 
it out before reaching the end of the Avenue, and sent it back. If 
you could send one with a coloured cover, it could do either on bed 
or sofa ; and I think it might be well to put her name on it in 
indelible ink, for she is so very likely to give away such a desirable 
thing. . . .' 

C. M. T. TO MRS. E . 



'Batala, Nov. 15, 1877. 

'Where do you think the gay Mission Miss Sahiba has been 
to-day .-^ Never consider mine a monotonous life! Why, I have 
been to a fair, a mela^ as they call it here. I had never thought of a 
lady's going to a heathen fair ; but two of our Mission ladies are here 
for ten days, to conduct examinations in the schools. Our valuable 
Miss Wauton said that she would like to go to the mela. Of course, 
I would not let her go without a lady companion ; so we both 
accompanied Mr. Beutel in his light covered cart, plunging over ruts 
in the kachcha road in fine style. 

' It was a pretty sight. The weather was delicious. Numbers of 
people in their picturesque costumes were threading their way to the 

village of A , white being the prevailing colour of the men's 

costumes, gay red that of the women's, with a fair sprinkling of green, 
a touch of yellow and blue, and here and there a grand display 
of glittering gold. But we did not go just to look at the folk, or to 
buy fairings either. Emily and I went armed with books and pictures, 
to try and sow a little good seed amongst the women, whilst Mr. 
Beutel and the two Catechists preached to the men. 

' Mr. Beutel found a shady place for us, and Emily and I tried to 
gather women around us. The men were curious, and wanted to see 
and hear also. We could not secure an exclusively feminine audience. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 273 

It was a Hindu mela ; and not many Muhammadans seemed to be 
present, which made matters easier for us. . . . No one objected to 
hearing as much about the Blessed Saviour as we could tell them. 
Emily speaks Punjabi famously ; I have only about a thimble-full of 
it ; so I chiefly listened to Emily, and held the umbrella to shield her 
from the sun. 

' It was interesting to look at the faces, when Emily, with admirable 
fluency, told the story of the Prodigal Son. At this time her audience 
seemed to be principally Sikh men. They crouched upon the ground 
around us, and listened with hearty interest. Nowhere, either from 
men or women, did we meet with any rudeness ; nor did any one 
seem vexed with our describing what our Lord had done for us. . . . 

' The way in which Batala is opening out is marvellous. I go from 
Zenana to Zenana, and have not by any means finished paying all my 
first visits ! ! Our Bible-woman thinks that about thirty Zenanas are 
open to her. I doubt that nearly so many are open in the large 
mother-stations of Amritsar or Lahore. We ought to have two or 
three clever, active, strong Miss Sahibas here, instead of one elderly 
lady, who is slow at both learning and teaching. 

'The two ladies from Amritsar are delighted with Batala. To-day 
is, I think, the anniversary of my arrival in India ; so I have entered 
upon my third year ! My Missionary life has, on the whole, been a 
very happy one. . . .' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

^ Dec. 13, 1877. — The overland mail was particularly long in arriving 
this time. I hoped that it would bring me something particularly 
nice ; and what should come to-day but your dear loving letter, and 
the first halves of your munificent contribution to our schools ! How 
very kind and liberal my Laura is ! I had been speaking to Mr. 
Beutel but yesterday of those two village schools, which would — from 
the lowness of funds — have been dropped, but for your last handsome 
gift. I was asking Mr. Beutel how far your Rs.55 would carry them 
on. He replied — till past the beginning of March. Beyond that 
there was no provision for them at all. 

' How delighted Mr. Beutel will be, on his return from Amritsar, to 
hear that a bountiful supply has come in ! I think it better to apply 
your gift to the village schools, than to the girls' schools in Batala. 
The latter, I think, excite more interest, and are not so likely to be in 
want of funds. These poor village schools — since for retrenchment 
sake they were cast off — are like waifs and strays. Government does 
not care for village schools; the School Society cannot afford to 
S 



274 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

keep up half the desirable number. Mr. Beutel often receives 
applications for new village schools, and is so much interested in 
them that he and our Catechist have one between them. . . . 

' We are to have a grand tamasha here at Christmas-time. Mr. 
Beutel is going to gather, not only the boys of our Batala Mission 
School, but boys from village schools. Of course, this is not merely to 
give enjoyment, though the enjoyment will probably be great, but to 
bring more forcibly before the lads the tidings of great gladness. 
We are a little puzzled about the poor little girls ; as their cruel and 
absurd pardah rules prevent the possibility of gathering them all 
together, even in the Bible-woman's house.' 

The beginning of 1878 found Miss Tucker at Batala; 
and though once more for a short time her work there was 
to be broken through, the spring of this same year, as 
explained earlier, would see an end of the difficulty which 
had attended her permanent residence in the place. The 
letter to her sister, written on January 5th, is all through 
a particularly characteristic one. A large amount will 
bear quotation. 

' The warm dress which you have so very kindly procured for me 
has not yet arrived ; but I should not wonder if it were here on 
Monday or Tuesday. . . . We have been guessing of what colour it 
will be. Mrs. J. and I both fixed upon grey, Mrs. Beutel purple, 
and Mr. Beutel brown. Perhaps after all it will turn out to be blue. 
I hope that I may have it in time to wear at B.'s baptism, which 
I do hope may take place to-morrow week, if some clergyman will 
only come from Amritsar. To this baptism I look forward with 
joyful interest. B.'s white dress is probably ready now. We like 
converts to wear pure white at baptism. I intend to give J., the 
Bible-woman, a new skirt to wear on the occasion ; and I should 
like to wear something perfectly fresh too. . . . 

' I was in a Zenana to-day, which it is always a mental effort to 
visit ; but it is very interesting. Instead of talking to the women there, 
I am certain to have one or two men, descendants of the famous 
Guru Nanak, who engross the conversation with me almost entirely. 

' The rehgion of the fine old fellow who is the principal talker is a 
regular puzzle. He talks Panjabi ; so you may imagine how very 
difficult it is for me to understand him ; and he wants to make me 
understand. I do my best to do so. This is what I gather of his 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 275 

views. S. is not a Muhammadan ; he says that he is a Hindu ; 
though by his birth he ought to be a Sikh. He reverences Guru 
Nanak/ very properly, but thinks that Guru Nanak has given religious 
tenets such as I am certain that he never did. We have no reason to 
suppose that the excellent Guru had ever heard of our Saviour. But 
S. propounds doctrines that are amazing from the lips of a Hi7idii. 
He believes in the one true God. He believes that a time of great 
war and trouble will come ; and that then Isa Masih (Jesus Christ) 
will come like a flash of lightning, and become the Ishar (Divine 
Lord) of all the Earth. 

' I had taken a Gurmukhi Testament with me. Neither of the men 
seemed disposed to read it. I thought that perhaps neither of them 
could; so I opened it myself, and chose a pretty easy place. I had 
never read the Gurmukhi character in a Zenana before. My old Sikh 
— for I cannot help considenng him one — listened very attentively, 
correcting my pronunciation now and then. I did not venture 
to read much. Then he took the Testament himself, and began to 
read it in regular Sikh fashion, in a kind of measured chant, as if it 
were poetry. It was clear that he could read ; so I left the precious 
Volume as a loan in that house. May God bless it ! . . .' 

^ Jan. 9, 1878. — Hurrah I the box has come ! It is in process 
of being opened. 

'Was I not a real witch? Did I not guess a grey dress.'' What 
an elegant, ladylike, quiet costume ! And so warm and comfortable ! 
. . , When I opened my tempting box, I thought of the dear fingers 
which had been employed in putting it up ! How very, very kind 
you have been ! So many, many thanks ! And what loves of 
cushions ! You have remembered my weakness for cushions. Soft, 
warm, and so pretty I ... I am obliged to go to Amritsar, just for a 
few days, as Mr. Clark and Margaret cannot come here ; and w-e must 
have a serious, prayerful discussion about what is really very impor- 
tant, and too complicated for letters. ... I see my owji path clearly. 
I intend, please God, to stick by Batala. My friends will not hear 
of my staying alone. . . . May God guide us ! Batala should NOT 
be abandoned.' 

''Ja7t. 23. — I have come back from Amritsar, with nothing settled, 
except that the Beutels are to go to Amritsar about the middle of 
March. The Batala affairs have been much talked over. ... I 
earnestly hope that I may not have a third time to retreat from 
Batala, for lack of a companion. We are beating about for one, but 
1 Founder of the Sikh religion. 



276 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

it seems a hard thing to find, we are so undermanned. Every one 
seems to acknowledge the great importance of Batala. . . . 

' As for its being unhealthy, I regard it as more healthy than either 
Amritsar or Lahore. The tank is a lovely tank, with no bad smell ; 
and when it is very full I can see the current of water flowing in on 
one side and out at the other. Fishes live and jump about in it ; and 
birds delight in its bright waters. I have a better chance of keeping 
well through the hot weather here than at the bungalow at Amritsar. 
This house is far better built, with thick walls, lofty rooms, etc. But 
none of my Missionary friends at Amritsar will listen to my staying 
here alone. So I must just wait, and see what is God's Will. He 
can send me a companion, if He sees right to do so.' 

''Feb. 7. — Perhaps you will be glad to hear that all our attempts to 

find a companion for me at Batala have failed. Poor must go 

back to England ; it w'as a mistake ever to have sent out so delicate 

a lady. Miss with whom I was in treaty, is going home too. 

Mrs. has been secured for another station. . . . Perhaps I have 

been too ready to say to myself, " There is no place on earth where 
I can be so useful as at Batala." I must come down a little, which is 
wholesome. But I have not any sense of defeat ; no, thank God, — 
every visit to Batala, it seems as if fresh ground had been gained. 
The waves retreat again and again, while the tide is advancing. . . . 
I believe that a far better spirit, a spirit of kindness towards us, 
a lessening of prejudice, a most encouraging readiness to listen, is 
now spreading in Batala.^ Maulvi Z, felt the difference. B — n 
feels the difference. I believe that there w'ill be real regret at 
our leaving Batala. Dear B— n ! . . . I had brought for B — n's 
children two gay little coverlets. . . . B — n took them and wrapped 
them round the plump little girls as chaddahs. I think that he was 
quite pleased. . . . 

' Oh, did I tell you — I told somebody — about my other Brahmin ; 
the elderly man who prays by the side of our tank ? I have repeatedly 
spoken to him in my indifferent Panjabi ; and I spoke to my nephew, 
R. Bateman, about him, w^hen he was here for two days. So on one 
of the mornings I see my nephew seated beside my Brahmin close to 
the tank, with only a handkerchief round his delicate head. His old 
Auntie soon supplied him w'ith an umbrella. R. Bateman gave me 
afterwards an account of the Brahmin's strange view of religion. 

1 Miss Tucker in this letter ascribes the said change to the work of others ; but 
there can be no doubt that her own influence had largely contributed to bring it 
about. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 277 

One can hardly imagine a mind in which the whole visible creation is 
regarded as God. The Brahmin had no idea of si7t ; he had ?tever 
seen it, he said, — as if it were a thing like a stone or a tree ! 

' I saw the poor fellow by the tank yesterday morning, and went 
out and spoke to him. I invited him to come to morning prayers. 
Rather to my surprise, the dear man really did come. He must be 
a wondrously meek Brahmin ; for he seated himself on the floor 
amongst the servants, labourers, etc., apparently quite forgetful of the 
tremendous difference between their castes and his own. Mr. Beutel 
makes morning family prayers almost like a regular service. He" 
not only reads the Bible, but expounds. I had asked him, for my 
Brahmin's sake, to make his address as Punjabish as possible ; so 
he stuck in Punjabi words where he could. My Brahmin looked 
very attentive. He has a sort of childlike readiness to listen, look- 
ing full at you when you speak ; and his face quite brightening 
as if with pleasure when you talk of a Saviour. It must be all so 
strangely new to him ! I wonder if he will come again. . . . 

' To-day I went to two new houses, — I have such a number to go 
to ! When I sang of the Saviour's invitation, to a Hindu, not only 
did she seem to listen attentively, but I saw her wiping moist eyes. 

' Margaret and E. Clay intend coming here the day after to-morrow 
for two days. ... I must not dwell on parting with Margaret.^ I 
rejoice in the happiness which I hope she will enjoy. She has 
worked long and very hard. . . . No doubt there are some wise and 
merciful reasons for sending me away from Batala.' 

* Batala, Feb. 14. — Another curious phase in my strange, strange 
life ! I told you or dear Leila of the idea of the Boys' Orphanage 
being brought here. That idea was knocked on the head ; but 
another is taking such shape that it is likely enough that I shall find 
myself, not exactly planted in, but on the top of — and underneath also 
— another boys' school ! The Rev. F. Baring, the Bishop of Dur- 
ham's son, has fallen in love with Batala, and has set his heart 
on buying this house from Government, for a Boarding-school for 
Christian Native Boys. 

' We have no wish, however, to lose our hold of our beautiful palace 
as a station for the Zenana Mission ; so it is likely that, if Mr. Baring 
succeed in buying Anarkalli, he will allow our Mission to rent from 
him, on easy terms, that part of the house which we now occupy (by 
we I mean myself), with the addition of the drawing-room and part 
at least of the grand dining-room. Dear, good Babu Singha and his 

1 Mrs. Elmslie was going home on furlough. 



278 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

wife and family will probably live in another part of the palace, he 
being Under-Superintendent of the School ! ! 

' Here's a brown and white Happy Family for you ! Natives and 
Europeans can hardly chum together ; yet it would be absurd to 
have three cooks for us. The present idea is for Mr. Baring and me 
to chum, //// I am joined by any young lady. Mr. Baring ... is 
quite happy with me, because of my venerable age, which I have 
found such an advantage in India. He asked me to-day to have him 
as a nephew I How rich I am in these dharm-nephews, — to say 
nothing of the real ones ! Now I have five ; one of them being my 
Afghan, and the others four of the most valuable clergymen in the 
Panjab Mission, ^ Henry, my Afghan boy,^ you must know. He is 
the youngest of all my dharm-nephews. 

' Now, what does my sweet Laura say to my plans — and my family ? 
1 like you to know all my nephews. ... I have more nieces even 
than nephews ; but you have had enough of my dharm-family for 
the present. Mr. Clark wanted me to take him in too. If he had 
asked to be a brothe}'^ I should have welcomed him ; but I really 
could not have as a nephew one to whom we look up as a head- 
pastor, a kind of bishop I I don't think that my nephews should be 
more than forty years old.' 

' Amritsar, Feb. 23, 1878. — Here I am again in dear old Amritsar. 
... I know that you will be curious to hear how the Batala school 
plan progresses. Well, we are waiting to hear what our saintly new 
Bishop says to it. In a matter of such importance it is right to wait 
for the advice of such an Apostolic man. ... I wait passively. There 
is plenty of work for me at Amritsar, more than I can do at all 
properly. . . . 

'You see, Laura darling, there are quantities of Aunts in England ; 
but an old Auntie is a rare bird in India, and therefore in request. I 
am like a hen with such a large brood ! 

' Dearest Margaret will be much missed. Many, many, both 
English and Natives, love her. . . . The Native Christians have 
quietly subscribed for a shawl for her Mother, as a token of their 
grateful love. I thick the Natives very affectionate. People talk of 
their being ungrateful ; but those who talk so have perhaps never 
earned their gratitude. If you love them, they love you ! They are 
very sensitive, both to kindness and to unkindness. . . . ' 

1 Mr. Bateman, Mr. Wade, Mr. Weitbrecht, Mr. Baring. . . . 
- Adopted son of the Rev. Robert Clark ; afterwards known as Dr. H. M. 
Clark. . . . 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 279 

TO MISS ' LEILA ' HAMILTON. 

'March 4, 1878, 
' . . . Missionary work can be just as truly done in England as in 
India ; but only a few of the dear workers caji — without forsaking 
other duties — come out so far as the Panjab. Those who come here 
should be strong also, physically as well as mentally suited for the 
peculiar work and trying climate. . . . 

' There are plenty of poor in Amritsar, as well as Batala. I went 
to Mrs. Clark's yesterday, at the large Mission House. In her 
garden were quantities of poor folk ; between three and four hundred, 
counting children. A Catechist preached to them first ; and then a 
great number of chapatties, a kind of thick flat cake, of very simple 
make, with a small quantity of dal,^ was handed round and distri- 
buted. Adults had two chapatties each ; children one. Mr. Clark 
had had a Brahmin to cook, for Hindu beggars would not otherwise 
have liked the food, and Muhammadans do not object to a Brahmin's 
cooking. Station-people subscribe to help in the distribution of this 
food. . . . 

' Mr. Clark and my new nephew, Mr. Baring, have gone to Lahore 
to see our new Bishop.^ He is known to be such a saint, that thanks- 
givings have been offered again and again for his appointment.' 

TO MRS. J. BOSWELL. 

'March 4, 1878. 

' Is poor, dear going to remain in the same house, so full to 

her of sad memories ? People feel so differently on this subject. 
Some cling to the spot where they have loved and sorrowed, — others 
fly from it. I should never like to cross the threshold of No. 3 again. 
I am rather pleased that it has another number now. There is no 
3 Upper Portland Place now.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

' March 8. — I can fancy the request to have my letters directed to 
Batala has excited a little curiosity. It really seems likely that 
our comical arrangement will be carried out ; and that I and my 
nephew will find ourselves chumming together in the midst of a Boys' 
School ! ! 

' The Panjab is eager to have a boys' school for young Christian 
Native gentlemen. The Bishop approves. Our boys are to pay 

1 Lentils. - Bishop French. 



28o THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Rs.5 a month. This may cover food expenses, but of course not the 
expense of first-class teaching. Batala is to have this, the nucleus of 
a future Panjabi Eton or Harrow (if it please God to prosper it), the 
training-place for our clergymen, lawyers, and merchants. I am not 
to be Matron. I am the sole representative— European — of our 
Ladies' Zenana Society ; but it would be strange if I lived in the same 
building with the dear boys, and took no interest in them. It is pro- 
bable enough that I shall find myself playing at Oxfordor Cambridge, 
or giving a music-lesson to young Panjabis. A comical idea suggests 
itself. I have a large family of new Nephews and Nieces in India. 
Am I to have a whole troop of brown Grandnephews in perspec- 
tive ! ! ! Don't fancy them ugly savages. Many will probably be 
winsome enough, — bright, attractive, and courteous. 

' Good Babu Singha and his excellent wife will probably be in the 
house, but not chum with Europeans. . . . 

' Only imagine my darhng Laura dreaming of coming to Egypt 
to meet me ! ! But I doubt her being up to such a journey ; and 
mine would be about as formidable a one. But the dream is one of 
" old," not " young Love " 1 ' 

''March 15. — Now, darling, to answer your objections to my spend- 
ing the hot season at Batala. ... I doubt that the risk to health 
from climate will be at all greater at Batala than at damp Amritsar. 
Always remember, love, that at the former place I am high above 
the ground, while at the latter I am on it. This makes an immense 
difference. The large inner room at Batala would be cooler than any 
room here. . . . 

' I intend to take my large harmonium to Batala. It may be of 
immense use there. I suppose that I shall have charge of all the 
music ; for I do not believe that either my Bhatija (nephew) or 
the Singhas know anything about it. It is of iuimense importance. 
Mr. R. told me yesterday that the Rev. C., perhaps the most 
valuable convert in all the Panjab (he is a Bengali), was first brought 
to Christ by listening to Church music. It carried his soul away ! 
I wish that I were more competent for the charge ; but I must hope 
and pray that God may bless my little attempts to serve Him by 
music. I am so thankful that age has not affected my voice ; at least, 
it does not seem to me to have done so.' 



The latter fact would tell little. People in advancing 
years are seldom able to judge of their own voices. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 281 

Others, however, speak of the unusual manner in which 
Miss Tucker's voice lasted. It had never been one of 
much power or sweetness ; but she had always had a 
sensitive ear, and had sung well ; and to the end she 
still sang in tune, even when the voice itself became 
cracked with age. 

One other point in the above may be noted. Miss 
Tucker was throughout anxious to make the best of her 
beloved Batala ; and undoubtedly this was a case of 
' making the best.' If Amritsar was damp, so also must 
Batala have been, — at all events, in the seasons of heavy 
floods, when it was often impossible to get about, from 
the state of the roads. There were times when Anarkalli 
was all but a veritable island, in the midst of a kind of 
lake. This could hardly be regarded as healthy, while it 
lasted. 

TO MISS ' LEILA ' HAMILTON. 

March 28, 1878. 

' I am to have my " pen," about which my dharm-nieces joke a 
great deal. Mera Bhatija^ is going to cut a sHce off his magnificent 
dining-room, to make a cool retreat for the Auntie. As a bamboo- 
screen right across would be very unsightly, if seen in its bareness, I 
am going to have mine covered on both sides. Fancy a screen, 
twenty feet long and six feet high ! I have been very fortunate in 
securing a most suitable cloth for the cover. A bedroom chintz 
would have looked quite out of character, but I have bought a native 
cloth, with an Oriental pattern, very tapestr>^-like, old-fashioned 
conventional flowers and birds on a blue ground. It is such a 
pattern as one might see in a picture, and will not destroy the effect 
of the Oriental hall. Every one who saw it at once fixed upon it as 
the thing. . . . 

' Emily has ordered eight chairs for my rooms, — I had two of my 
own, — and your beloved Mother knows that I am splendidly supplied 
with cushions ; such dainty cushions I I like my rooms to look 
rather nice, as young Panjab may get an extra polish, if admitted to 
an English lady's drawing-room.' 

1 ' My Nephew'; term constantly used by A. L. O. E. for Mr. Baring. 



CHAPTER VII 

A.D. 1878 
PERSECUTIONS 

Once more Miss Tucker settled down in Batala — for life ! 
She would only leave the place again for her short and well- 
earned holidays ; and at the last for her passing away. 

During many years her home was still to be in the 
quaint old palace, described by others as draughty, weird, 
forlorn, desolate ; though she herself so resolutely looked 
upon the discomforts of the old building through rose- 
tinted glasses. But its dreary aspect was soon to be 
changed. The bright faces of Panjabi lads, the merry 
voices of Panjabi scholars, were to fill with fresh life those 
big and empty rooms. ' The Baring High School,' as it 
was called, had its first existence in the shape of a small 
boarding-school at Amritsar, which Mr. Baring decided to 
remove to the palace at Batala. About fifteen boys were, 
in the beginning, at Anarkalli, — described by A. L. O. E. 
as ' our choicest young Natives, converts or descendants 
of converts ; one is the grandson of a martyr ! ' These 
boys or their friends paid fees, when they could, which 
was not always ; and the fees, though perhaps sufficient 
to cover their food, were by no means sufficient to cover 
the cost of a good education. 

From the spring of 1878 Mr. Baring resided there, as 
C.M.S. Honorary Missionary, with control of the Boys' 
School, which indeed had been started mainly at his own 

282 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 283 

expense ; while Babu Singha worked under him as the 
Master of the School. Miss Tucker, as she stated in her 
letters, held no such post as that of Matron. Her posi- 
tion was entirely independent, being that of Honorary- 
Zenana Missionary. She paid for her own rooms and her 
own board in the Palace, and regarded Zenana visiting, 
and the writing of small books for Indian readers, as her 
prime occupations. But for Charlotte Tucker to live 
under the same roof with all those boys, and not to give 
them loving interest, not to attempt to teach or influence 
them, would have been a sheer impossibility. 

Another Boys' School had been started in Batala, which 
must not be confounded with the above. The Baring 
High School was — and is — distinctly for the education of 
Indian Christian boys. The Mission School, known later 
as ' The Plough,' — Miss Tucker recognising strongly that 
this early stage of work in Batala could only be compared 
to a farmer's ploughing of his fields, — was for Indian boys, 
not yet Christian. They received Christian teaching ; and 
when a boy in the Plough School became a convert, he 
was passed on usually to the High School. The very 
starting of this ' Plough School ' was due to Miss Tucker's 
liberality. Out of her own purse she generously paid the 
main part of its expenses. 

We must turn again to her letters, with all their curi- 
ously fresh, young eagerness and enjoyment, to realise 
what her life was at this time. Charlotte Tucker might 
call herself ' old,' — she was very fond of doing so on every 
possible occasion ; but certainly none of the weight of age 
had as yet descended upon her spirits. 

TO SIR W. HILL.^ 

' Batala, April 13, 1878. 
' We hope next Sunday to have a Baptism in our lovely little lake ; 
and we have been practising baptismal hymns to sing on the joyful 
1 President of the Zenana Society. 



284 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

occasion. We had some anxiety about our young convert. . . . He 
went to Amritsar on business ; and at the time when we expected 
his return he did not come back, 

' What could have happened ? Had the dear youth been seized by 
his Muhammadan relations ? Such things do happen ; the danger is a 
very real one. It is often no easy matter to confess Christ in India. 
Mr. B., who was here, wrote off a note to a Christian Maulvi in 
Amritsar to search for the lad. He did so, and found him, and 

brought him here in safety last night ; but not before had had a 

painful time of it in Amritsar. 

' I looked with interest on that Christian Maulvi, as he sat in our 
drawing-room, conversing with the English Missionaries. . . . He 
has known well enough to what dangers a convert may be exposed ; 
for he has experienced them. . . . He was the first of his family to 
take up the Cross. His Muhammadan neighbours formed the fiendish 
design of burning him alive in his house. They piled up his clothes, 
etc., in an under room. He was sleeping above. The Muhammadans 
set fire to the pile ; and the clothes, etc., were quickly consumed ; 
but the fire did not, as was intended, set the whole house in a blaze. 
The ceiling was charred ; that was all ; and the Christian slept 
unharmed, watched over by the Eye that never slumbers nor sleeps.' 

About this time A. L. O. E. wrote home to another 
quarter : — 

'Yesterday a letter arrived from the schoolmaster of O with 

tidings that a lad of fifteen has had the courage to declare to his friends 
his desire to become a Christian. The natural result of such a declara- 
tion has followed, — the young confessor has been beaten. It is no 
small matter to stand up thus openly for Christ in a heathen village. 
The lad may have to endure much. I have seen one who was made 
to stand in boiling oil by his own father, to hinder him from going to 

the Christians. Whether the O boy's conversion has been the 

result of the Good Friday expedition we know not ; but w^hether it be 
so or not, the lad claims our sympathy and interest. We shall try to 
bring him here, to the Batala Boarding-School, where he may at 
least receive food and protection. " It is a refuge," said our Chris- 
tian Maulvi to me yesterday, glancing up at the goodly building 
raised by the Maharajah Shere Singh, who little dreamed that he 
was preparing in it a home for a Christian Natives' Boarding-School, 
and also for the ladies of a Zenana Mission. I am at present the sole 
English Agent of the latter Society here.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 285 

TO MRS. E . 

'May 10, 1878. 

' You may like to hear a little more about our School of young 
Panjabis, as it is rather a curiosity. 

' My nephew, Mr. Baring, has succeeded in making these young 
Natives like not only cricket, but gardening. We are to have a 
Horticultural Exhibition in August, when prizes are to be given for 
the best flowers and fruit. Considering that the gardens are all on 
ground redeemed from the lake this year, it will hardly be expected 
that the show will equal one in the Botanical Gardens. But oh, you 
should see our glorious pink water-lilies ! They grow wild in the 
water, and would be a sight anywhere. 

' I want the boys also to take to intellectual games. I am much 
pleased at having succeeded in making one nice lad compose two 
Sunday enigmas. I by no means despise this small beginning of 
authorship. Sunday enigmas greatly increase knowledge of Scripture, 
and also help to make the holy day pass pleasantly. There is a great 
deal of singing here also ; and such a lovely text for our Chapel wall 

is now almost ready. ... Our dear lads cannot, as did, give a 

beautiful pulpit, but I think that they take a pride and pleasure in 
their Chapel. 

' It will look rather pretty, I hope, with its white walls, and striped 
pardahs of red and white, and the pretty blue ecclesiastical-looking 
carpet which is promised for it. h Baptismal Register Book is ordered. 
I want a large one I God grant that it may fill up rapidly. We shall 
require a cemetery too, and have rather set our hearts on a pretty 
mango tope ^ at a suitable distance from, but not quite in sight of, 
the house.' 

' Batala ; jny beloved Laurds Birthday, May 20, 1878. 

' On this day of all days in the year I could not but write to my 
own precious sister, even if I had not such a nice, long, interesting 
letter to thank her for, as I received yesterday. . . . 

'Like you, I earnestly hope that 'the Almighty will preserve our 
dear land from the fearful evil of war. You and I would scarcely 
now care to sing — 

' " In the proud battle-fields 
Bounding with glee." 

' How little realisation the juvenile writer had of what war is ! . . . 

1 Grove of mango trees. 



286 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

We are in another kind of warfare here. This living in the First 
Century, instead of the Nineteenth, seems to give a more vivid colour 
to life. I suspect that I should find some Missionary stations so 
dull after one like this ! Such as those where year after year passes 
without an adult baptism being witnessed, — hardly expected, — per- 
haps in some instances hardly hoped for ! . . . The fact is that it 
needs some moral courage in the Missionary, as well as all sorts of 
courage in the Convert, to face the storm that may follow a baptism. 

' One feels almost ashamed of remaining in such perfect security,^ 
when encouraging a poor brown brother or sister to go up, as it 
were, to the cannon's mouth. I was thinking to-day what would be 
the most painful sacrifice which one could make. It seemed to me 
that of the love and esteem of all our dear ones. And that is just the 
sacrifice which some of our brethren have to make ! No wonder 
that they hesitate, weep, shrink from the flood of sorrow before 
them ; but the true-hearted ones make the plunge at last. " The 
love of Christ constraineth.'' 

' The enclosed to will give you an idea of some people's trials ; 

but ever and anon new cases seem to crop up. I expect that our fair 
Batala will be a kind of harbour of refuge to hunted ones. Mera 
Bhatija has been telling me that a Missionary — I forget where — is 
about to have a Baptism, and wants to send the new Christian over 
to us for a week, to let the storm blow over a little. Another lad was 
all packed ready to come, but he was caught. He means to take the 
opportunity of escaping when he can. . , . 

* Mera Bhatija and I are curious to see the Rainbow glass. 
Perhaps, if it be small, I may show it off in the Zenanas. New and 
curious things give much pleasure. From a little round pin-cushion 
of mine the pretty glass picture of a Cathedral came off. I often 
take it with me, and show it, and say, " This is an English Church, 
in which God is praised every day ! " Mere prints do not take with 
the Natives. They like coloured things that glitter.' 

TO MRS. J. BOSWELL. 

'May2\, 1878. 

' It is wonderful to me how an English lady can go without fear or 
danger all about Batala, meeting with so much respect and courtesy. 
I do not feel it the slightest risk. Into narrow lanes, up dark stair- 
cases, — amongst women, amongst men, — I go without the smallest 

1 Not always perfect security. Instances have occurred, though seldom, of 
Missionaries themselves being attacked and roughly handled on such occasions. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 287 

excuse for being alarmed. The people, too, generally listen very 
quietly, though what is said may be dead against their views. I make 
the slender concession of calling Muhammad " Mr. ]Muhammad " 
— " Muhammad Sahib " — but no one could object to so common a 
title. He is never called " Hasrat" — Saint — like Moses and David.' 

TO THE SAME. 

'Mayi% 1878. 

' Three new boys have arrived to-day. I am glad that they did 
not come till I had pretty well learned up the first seventeen, tacking 
the right names to the right faces. It took me a good while to do 
this, for I have a difficulty in remembering faces. . . . 

'The Natives who send their boys to this upper-class school are of 
course anxious that the lads should be good English scholars. At 
this time of high-pressure education it is necessar}^ that they should 
be so. jNIr. Baring drudges day after day at the English classes ; 
but it occurred to me that I could give a little help in play-hours. I 
have written an English charade for our young Panjabis to recite ; 
and the idea has, I think, taken with them. It needed a little 
management to give a separate part to every one of seventeen boys, 
apportioning it to the individual's capacity. Pretty little P. (five 
years) could not be expected to manage more than a line and a half; 
but it would never have done to have left him out. Into each of the 
three divisions of the charade I have introduced a lively chorus, in 
which all can join. The song that takes most is — 

' " I am a brisk and sprightly lad, 
But newly come from sea, sir ! " 

' This is rather curious, as none of our Punjabis have ever seen 
the sea. The chorus will be first-rate practice for rapid, clear pro- 
nunciation ; for 

' " Wlien the boatswain pipes ' All hands aloft ! ' " 

would not be an easy line even for some English boys. If the lads 
manage tolerably well, the charade will be great fun. Who would 
ever have dreamt that part of a Missionary's work should be to set 
boys to learn a lively charade ! 

' I pity the City boys. I suspect that there is a sort of wistful 
longing raised in many a young heart, " I wish I were one of those 
Christian boys ! " If there could be a blind ballot of Batala boys, as 
to whether the whole town should become Christian, I am by no 
means sure whether the votes would not be in our favour. I do not 



288 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

mean that the poor, dear lads are converts, but that they use their 
eyes and ears, — and think that ours must be a veiy pleasant, genial 
kind of religion, connected in some sort of way with singing, and 
cricket, and kindness.' 

Another short English play, written by Miss Tucker for 
the boys, was called Tke Bee and the Butterfly. Miss 
Mulvany, a Missionary, went one day, somewhere about 
this time, to Batala for a few hours ; and in the course of 
her visit she was sent upstairs, while Charlotte Tucker 
gave the boys a lesson in acting the said little play. Miss 
Mulvany has never lost the impression made upon her by 
the peals and shouts of laughter which came up from the 
merry company below. 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'■June 19, 1878. 

' I am reading the Granth,^ the sacred book of the Sikhs. Like the 
Koran, it is very long, — I think more than 600 quarto pages, — and 
with an immense deal of repetition in it. But it leaves on the mind 
a very different impression from the Koran. As far as I have read, 
it is wonderfully pure and spiritual. If you could substitute the 
name "Almighty" for " Hari," and "Lord Jesus" for "Guru,"^ it 
might almost seem the composition of hermits in the early centuries, 
except that celibacy is not enjoined. Woman seems to be given her 
proper place. Many exhortations are addressed to women. . . . 

' There is something touching in the longing — the yearning — after 
God, — the intense love of His Name ! The Sikh idea of God is not 
that of the Hindus, with their fiend-like deities. The Creator is 
light, and goodness, and happiness. There is indeed the ridiculous 
idea of people having to pass through 840,000 states of existence, — 
unless the probation be shortened by meditation, purity, and the 
repetition of God's name, — but this fearful number of births is 
regarded as very tiresome indeed. 

' One might call the Granth " the book of yearning," and I feel 
humiliated that I, with Gospel light, should in spiritual contemplation 
and longing for closest communion with the Deity come so far 
behind these poor Sikhs. Unfortunately, the Sikh religion has 
been so much corrupted that it is almost dying out. I suppose that 

1 Pronounced Gnait. 2 Teacher. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 289 

it was too pure to please the Enemy ; he knew that the Granth would 
offer no strong opposition to the Bible. Here, in Batala, his strong- 
hold seems to me to be Muhammadanism. It shocks me to find how 
that invention of Satan darkens the moral sense. What would be 
thought sin in another, is by some openly defended as no sin if 
committed by Muhammad! ! 

' The Muhammadans too are so ready to stand up for their false 
faith ; far more inclined to defend it than the Hindus are to defend 
theirs. Mera Bhatija was saying to-day that no book has been 
written against Christianity by a Hindu. I have myself, however, 
seen a very bitter article in a paper. But, generally speaking, the 
Muhammadans seem to be much sterner opponents of Truth than the 
Hindus. I feel it in the Zenanas. 

' Now, my own Laura, I am going to my long task of reading the 
Granth. It puts me on vantage-ground when I can tell the Natives 
that I have read their Scriptures.' 

The High School was not to have broken up before the 
middle of August ; but circumstances caused Mr. Baring 
to fix upon a fortnight earlier, and this decided Miss 
Tucker to go to Amritsar on July 28. She at once 
planned that two of the hard-worked ladies at the Mission 
bungalow should then take their holiday, while she 
remained as a companion to the third. It does not appear 
that she had any idea of the Hills for herself No doubt 
the change to Amritsar would mean pleasure, if not rest ; 
and she was still able to speak of herself as ' wonderfully 
well ' ; but the unselfish thought for every one else, rather 
than of her own needs, is not the less remarkable. 

To one of her correspondents she wrote from Batala on 
the 6th of July : ' You know that I am the only English- 
woman within twenty miles. Now and then friends pass 
a night here ; but in the hot weather not often. . . . The 
29th will, if I stay till then, complete sixteen weeks of 
steady residence, during which I have only twice seen 
English ladies, — for less than twenty-four hours. I doubt 
whether any European has ever stopped in Batala so long 
before without a single night's absence. . . . Once from 

T 



290 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Friday evening to Monday morning I saw no white face. 
There is a nice brown lady in the house.' ^ 

At Amritsar she found herself as usual in the midst of 
engrossing interests. Fresh Baptisms were taking place ; 
and about these she wrote to Mrs. Hamilton on the 2ist 
of August, describing one just past : — 

'There was a sweet-looking woman, D., a convert from Hindu- 
ism, and her two dear little girls. Her husband, who is not brave 
enough, or perhaps not sufficiently led towards Christianity, to 
follow her example, saw her depart for church. " You know that she 
is going to be baptized," said Emily. " Yes, yes," was the reply. 
" You must be kind to her, and receive her back." The man made 
no objection, — even to his two children being baptized ; though he had 
formerly put obstacles in the way. There was a fourth, a convert from 
Muhammadanism, T., whose baptism was the most interesting of 
all. . . . The clergyman subjected the poor girl to the ordeal of a 
severe examination. She had never probably spoken to an English- 
man before ; and it would have been no wonder had she flinched or 
faltered. But she, who has already been beaten at home for Christ's 
sake, showed no sign of weakness. Her answers came clear and 
firm. "Is it because of Miss Wauton's speaking that you come?" 
" No, it is because of my heart's speaking." 

' The miseries and persecutions that may be coming upon her 
were almost, I think, too faithfully set before her. " If they were 
even to kill me, as they did M.'s father, what fear?" said the daunt- 
less girl. . . . 

' I remarked to , on my return from the baptism, that I thought 

that the Indian women were braver than the men. He quite agreed ; 
he knows that he dare not come forward like D. and T. Our noble 
N. is, we believe, a Christian at heart, and we know other men 
of whom we think that the same might be said, but they linger and 
linger, and dare not yet ask for baptism. Here this year in Amritsar 
we have had five women, and last year two, who, in the face of what 
we might have considered almost insurmountable obstacles, have 
bravely confessed Christ in baptism. It must be much harder for 
them than for the men, but they seem to have more courage, or more 
faith.' 

Several weeks later another reference in home-letters is 

1 Bibi Sinsfha. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 291 

found to the brave girl, mentioned above : ' By last 
accounts dear T. is holding out nobly. We are not 
allowed to see her ; but I hear that one or more Maulvis ^ 
have been brought to try to argue the young maiden out 
of her faith. But she tells them that they may read to 
her all day long, but they never will change her. They 
say that Christianity is ' written on her heart,' — what a 
testimony from Muhammadans ! — and that the ladies must 
have bewitched her. It reminds me of Lady Jane Grey 
in prison ; for dear T. is a prisoner.' 

Plans did not fit in as Miss Tucker had intended. 
Once more she found herself called upon to act escort to 
a sick Missionary, who had to go to the Hills, and was 
not well enough to travel alone. Miss Wauton could not 
just then be spared from Amritsar, and she appealed to 
the ' Auntie,' whose readiness to help in any emergency 
was by this time well understood. ' It seems as if by 
some fatality I must go each year to Dalhousie,' Charlotte 
Tucker said in one letter, adding, ' But I hope to return 
back in a few days.' Then, in allusion to a scheme that 
she should join her nephew at Murree in September, ' I 
do not propose staying long. After sixteen weeks of 
unbroken residence at Batala, behold me rushing up and 
down hills like a comet.' 

TO MISS L. V. TUCKER. 

^ Aug. 14, 1878. 

' We are to have a Confirmation here on the 3rd of November. I 
should be much tempted to come up from Batala to witness it, 
particularly if any Batala Christians are confirmed. I am afraid that 

's v^^ife will shrink from breaking pardah, — that nonsensical 

pardah, which is a real snare to some baptized bibis. . . . There is 
one dear baptized young bride in Batala, whom I have not seen, but 
hope to search out on my return. The brave girl dared to be baptized 
in Amritsar, but was then carried off by her husband to Batala, and 

^ Muhammadan teachers. 



292 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

we know not in what part she is. She is likely to be having a hard 
time of it, but it is quite right in her to be with her husband. . . .' 

Writing home, she described drolly her absence from 
Batala as — ' this strange episode of my life ; — seven weeks 
acting Superintendent of the Orphanage, — three of those 
weeks sole Missionary at Amritsar, — and — oh, bathos ! 
ten days an ayah — for I had none other.' Still her health 
seemed to keep good. She could stand the plains in hot 
weather as scarcely another Missionary was able to do. 
While one and another broke down, and had to be off to 
the Hills, Miss Tucker kept about, much the same as 
usual, filling up as far as possible the gaps left by others. 

She was full of ardent sympathy at this time for certain 
converts from Muhammadanism, undergoing severe per- 
secutions, and was much distressed at the difficulty of 
doing anything for them. She even formed a daring plan 
for carrying off one brave young girl from her relatives, 
and taking her to a safe distance ; and Miss Tucker was 
with difficulty dissuaded from a scheme which others of 
longer experience knew too well might lead to serious 
complications. 

Another, a wife, and also her daughter, were at this 
time in frequent peril, because they had become Christians 
in heart, and were earnestly desiring Baptism. The 
husband, a Muhammadan, would sometimes sit between 
the two, sharpening a knife, and threatening to stab them. 
Once he violently seized the daughter by her throat. Life 
with them must have been one long unhappiness ; yet 
Miss Tucker, after an interview with the poor wife, could 
describe her as looking ' worn, but so bright and brave.' 

In September she was at Murree, helping to nurse her 
niece, and to take care of the tiny baby, — which latter 
occupation, she wrote, was ' more formidable to an old 
maiden Aunt than conversing in Urdu with a learned 
Maulvi, or doing the agreeable to a Rajah, would be.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 293 

Of the place itself she said : ' Murree is not a cheering 
place to a Missionary. . . . One sees numbers of Natives ; 
but how is one to tell the glad tidings ? I feel like a doctor 
with multitudes of sick around him, — and he cannot get at 
his medicine-chest. I have brought Urdu religious books ; 
I find no good opportunity of giving even one away.' 

October saw her once more in the spot where she loved 
to be, writing joyously home — 

'" Here I am, in my own Station again, and glad to be back. I 
find that our little Christian flock has been increasing in a very 
encouraging way during my absence. There was a nice little 
round of visits to pay to Christian families. ^ Those who had been 
last baptized I had never seen before to my knowledge. A man of 

some forty or fifty years of age, employed in the Government , 

who has been thinking on the subject of religion for about nine years. 
For about two years he has been going to some quiet place, when he 
had leisure, to weep and pray. He appears now to be a very earnest 
and bold Christian. At his own desire he was baptized in the middle 
of the city, in a room set apart in the school.' 

Very soon after Miss Tucker's return came the death of 
a little Christian Native baby ; and the quiet Christian 
funeral was in marked contrast with the wild wailings 
usual at Muhammadan funerals, — though some Muham- 
madan lamentings were heard from one visitor present. 

'We decked the little sleeping form with flowers; a rose was 
placed in each hand, a fragrant white Cross on the breast. ... I 
attended the funeral ; so did a good band of Native Christians, 
including our schoolboys. The cemetery was a Muhammadan one. 
We must buy one for ourselves, as we are, thank God, a growing 
body. I hope that in another month we may number fifty baptized 
persons in Batala ; and I have lately been writing out the heading 
for a Subscription for a Chtirch at our dear Batala. We have now 
only schoolrooms turned into Chapels. My list is to lie on our table 
for visitors to see. Perhaps it will be one or two years before we have 
collected enough ; and by that time, please God, the flock may have 
doubled or quadrupled. 

1 Not all actually Batala converts ; some having come from Amritsar, in con- 
nection with the school, etc. 



294 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

' It will be so — and more — if we go on at the rate at which the 
Church has been growing. The bringing the Boys' School here 
has been a grand thing. The dear fellows, on the whole, set such a 
nice example, and they seem so happy. 

''Nov. 4, 1878. — I have come to Amritsar for a few days, for the 
Confirmation, and had the pleasure of receiving your dear letter of 
October ist yesterday. . . . How can beloved St. George send me 
such bad advice ? I like his example better than his counsel. What 
did he do in time of trouble '^. Stick to his post like a Tucker ! 
Those of our Missionary family, with whom I have spoken on the 
subject,! all agree with me that we should never desert our flocks. 
What sort of army would that be, in which all the officers ran away 
at sight of an enemy? . . . But take no thought about me^ dear one. 
Unless we meet with serious reverses in Afghanistan, I do not see 
danger of a rising, especially in the Panjab, where, on the whole, 
I think that we are considered tolerable rulers. 

'And if there luei'e troubles, I suspect that we Missionaries would 
run a better chance than other Europeans, we have such numbers of 
friends amongst the heathen. . . . Just fancy — our Bible-woman and 
her husband are actually collecting money from Hindus and 
Muhammadans for our Church ! A poor woman gave some barley. 
If you were to hear all the polite little speeches, and see all the 
smiles that pass between Missionary and Natives, you would not 
expect us to be afraid. A Missionary in any case should have 
nothing to do with fear, — it is dishonouring to the Master. 

' My love, how can you think of sending me another dress for 
winter.? Do you think me so careless and extravagant as to have 
worn out the graceful Grey already ? I never take it into a duli ; I 
keep my faithful Green for such rough work. But if a new winter 
dress is actually in hand, let me send you even before seeing it a 
thousand thanks for it.' 

FROM AN INDIAN CHRISTIAN, CONVERT FROM MUHAMMADANISM, 

1878 

' My DEAR Miss Tucker, — I received your kind letter, dated 
13th instant, and the newspaper yesterday. I am very thankful to 
you. I read it many times, and it truly made me brave. I like the 
piece of poetry you quoted very much. Every day I pray to God to 
lead me in the right way. I think my prayer is heard, for I do not 
feel so lonely as I did at first ; but I get fever nearly every day. I 

1 Threatened war with Afghanistan. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 295 

had gone over to Lahore on Friday, and stayed there for Saturday 
and Sunday. ... I remember you in my prayers, and I hope you 
do the same. Now I will not feel lonely. Please do not be 
anxious. . . .' 

C. M. T. TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''Nov. 8. — If I were not a Mission Miss Sahiba, who should never 
complain, I might give a groan or a grumble to the mice and rats. 
They get into my almira, and what is even worse, into my harmonium. 
I had a tin plate made for the pedal part, expressly to keep creatures 
out ; but they managed to pass it. I have now had a second large 
one made, and hope that it may prove more effectual. The creatures 
have bitten almost all the red Persian away ; to-day I found lumps 
of wadding in my harmonium. " How could they have come there ? " 
I asked of my sharp kahar, V. I suspected the rats, but did not 
know where they could have got the wadding from, — when V. 
suggested the beautiful padded cover of my harmonium. Sure 
enough, the rogues had bitten holes in that, and pulled out wadding 
to stuff into my harmonium, doubtless to make a comfortable nest 
for a family of young mice or rats. I tried a Batala trap ; it was of 
no use : I have bought an Amritsar one, and Mera Bhatija has 
bought another ; but the rats, I fear, will not be much thinned in 
numbers. We try to get a weasel, but have not succeeded yet. But 
things might have been much worse. The rats never try to eat us ! ' 

''Nov. 14. — I do not think that I told you of two Christian fakirs, 
to whom I was introduced at Amritsar. They were very badly 
clothed, fakir-like, but — especially one of them — had pleasing, 
sensible faces. I suppose that they wander about, and lead a kind 
of John the Baptist life. How curious such a style of Christian 
would appear in old England ! ' 

''Nov. 20. — I have been wanting — wanting — my English letters, 
expecting them these four days. At last here they are, and such 
nice dear ones. . . . 

' I shall much like to hear what you think of my sweet Margaret. 
I doubt whether she will be in good looks, she has been so sorely 
tried by her dear Mother's illness, and the struggle in her own mind, 
— longing to come to our help, yet unable to do so ! I feel for her. 

' I think that dear Emily benefited little or not at all by her trip 
to the Hills. She ought to go home in the spring, — after more than 
six years' work, — so ought Miss Fuller ; but neither can leave till 
they fairly break down ; for there is no one to take their place. . . . 



296 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

'You think, love, that by September 4th "the most dangerous 
season was over." Far from it ! September is, I think, the most 
dangerous month in all the year in the Panjab. Very hot, and full 
of fever. My hardest pull up-hill since I came to India was, I think, 
in September. You have had the heat then for so long, you have 
less vigour, and the air is so unwholesome. Sickness all around. 

' How good you are to send me another dress ! My graceful Grey 
still looks very well. I consider it rather a company dress, and have 
my Green for the Zenanas, which are sometimes so dirty ! I am 
wearing it now, for the weather is becoming very cold. It is rather 
amusing to see our Panjabis come in for Morning Prayers, about 
sunrise on a sharp morning. There is P. with a red comforter 
round head and neck ; J. is wrapped in his white blanket. Poor 
Babu Singha, with a cold of course, is wondering how the big room 
below is ever to be kept warm. Mera Bhatija and I are going to 
change our drawing-room. The northern room is far the best in 
summer ; but in winter we escape to the southern, and what was our 
guest-room becomes our sitting-room. There is actually a fireplace 
in it ! — and the sunbeams stream in. . . . 

* Instead of spending the long winter evenings in solitary grandeur 
upstairs, I now come down and make one of the cheerful party in the 
schoolroom. It is much less distracting to be amongst a score of 
boys than you would suppose. I and some of them have been trying 
the vitre-manie (?) for our Chapel-window. Yesterday I brought 
down my chess-board and challenged the boys, and fought P., R., 
and I. C., one after the other. . . . 

'On Sunday evening we sing hymns for ever so long together, 
just like one huge family. The boys never seem to quarrel, or say 
one spiteful word of each other. We have just had two new 
boys ; one is an Afghan ; so we shall have the sons of Christian, 
Muhammadan, Hindu, and Afghan, (by race,) parents all together.' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'Dec. 13, 1878. 

'This evening as Mera Bhatija has gone to Amritsar, I asked 
three of our lads to tea. . . . After tea I taught the lads " Cross 
Questions and Crooked Answers," and showed them my splendid 
bubbles and my chatelaine, which were greatly admired, and my 
photograph-book, a great treasure to me. But what gave perhaps 
more amusement than anything was the Beaconsfield handkerchief. 
I was so glad to get some photos at last. . . . My visits in the 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 297 

city were interesting. Dear B n's troubles have re-opened his 

mothers Zenana to me. She even paid me a visit here, I do not 
see any inchnation in her to become a Christian, however ; she says 
that I shall go to Heaven my way, and she hers, I suggested the 
disagreeableness of 840,000 transmigrations ; but she did not seem 
troubled. Perhaps she hopes that she has passed through a few 
hundreds of millions already.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

^ Dec. 23, 1878. — "I shall go to rest to-night nestling under my 
Laura's love, and I shall rise very early to thank her,'"" was my 
thought last night, as I got into my nice comfortable bed, with her 
soft, light, warm quilt above me. And here I am sitting by my 
blazing wood fire, long ere dawn, with that same quilt like a shawl 
round my shoulders, — so comfy ! Luxurious Char I But, after all, I 
have not begun my thanks, and where am I to end them ? 

'Your wonderfully packed parcel reached me in perfect safety 
yesterday. It was something like a nut, for it was rather difficult to 
get at the kernel. So much careful stitching by dear fingers. At 
last, however, the beautifully warm skirt and quilt, and most exquisite 
cards, were fully displayed to view. A thousand, thousand thanks I 
I have so ma?iy things, such goodly gifts, to remember my Laura 
by ! . . . 

' Our Christmas festivities have already begun. Our house is 
pretty full with Native friends. Perhaps the most interesting is 
dear B,, the once Muhammadan wife of a Christian Catechist, and 
mother of Christian children, who was so sturdily bigoted that she 
held out for thirteen years, before she would give herself to the 
Saviour, But then she did so in her honest way. B. was never 
a hypocrite ; we respected her when she vexed us. It was something 
for her to remain with her husband ; for, by Muhammadan law, 
baptism of husband or wife constitutes divorce. IVIera Bhatija told 
me of a curious case, which excited much interest, — to Europeans it 
would excite much surprise. A Muhammadan, who had, I suppose, 
read Christian books, was travelling with some other ]\Iuhammadans, 
and was imprudent enough to say that jMuhammad wrought no 
miracles, and expressed doubts as to his being really a prophet. 
The poor man happened to have a rich wife, who, we may believe, 
did not care for him. To speak against the Prophet is enough to 
constitute a divorce 1 The companions of the man did not let their 
chance go of half ruining him. The case was brought into Court, 



298 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

and an English judge was obliged to give a verdict against the 
unfortunate fellow, who had expressed an honest opinion. He lost 
his wife and her rich dowry. . . .' 

' Amritsar, Z>f<r. 28, 1878. — I am sitting with my sweet Laura's 
delicious quilt wrapped closely round my shoulders, for it is warmer 
than a shawl ; and I am up before the fire-lighting period. Not 
being at home, I do not know how to light the fire myself. 

' Our Christmas at Batala went off beautifully, and has, I think, left 
a feeling of thankfulness on both Mera Bhatija's mind and my own. 
The following day we both came to Amritsar. Yesterday was the 
grand opening of the Alexandra School. Mr. Clark asked me to 
write an account of it for his report. I did not like the task ; it 
makes one feel so penny-a-linerish ; and one is afraid of writing to 
please this or that person, etc. ; but I could not well refuse, so I have 
been scribbling something in pencil in the cold, which I mean to 
submit to dear Emily's criticism. . . . 

* Oh, I must tell you what a boon your Beaconsfield handkerchief is ! 
It gave much amusement at Batala, both to Europeans and Natives ; 
it is giving much here at Amritsar. I am engaged to dine with the 
Clarks this evening ; so I dare say that the good Bishop, Archdeacon, 
and all will have a laugh over my puzzle. On Monday I am to go to 
Lahore, and sleep a night at Government House. I mean to take 
my handkerchief with me. . . . 

' Batala will present rather a contrast to bustling Amritsar and 
Lahore. When I return, there will probably be no European but 
myself there for days, as Mera Bhatija must be absent at the 
Conference till the 6th.' 

So ended the third year of Miss Tucker's life in India. 
She had now thoroughly settled down to her own especial 
work in Batala. 



CHAPTER VIII 

A.D. 1878- 1 879 
EARLY CHRISTIAN DAYS IN THE IQTH CENTURY 

It is clear that Charlotte Tucker was profoundly im- 
pressed with the sense of living, as she said, in the First 
Century, instead of the Nineteenth. In another letter, 
soon to be quoted, she describes her Batala experience as 
' being carried back to the days of the Apostles.' 

For in Batala the complex conditions of modern life, 
the intricacies of Nineteenth Century Christianity, were 
absent. Here in England it is more or less the correct 
thing to be in some measure religious, to be at least 
nominally a Christian. People are on the whole expected 
to go to Church, — or, if Dissenters, just as much to 
go to Chapel, — and though the going to Church, as a 
matter of course, does not at all indicate the lack of 
deeper reasons, of purer motives underlying, it does make 
the going a very easy matter. So, also, a mother takes 
her little one to Church for Baptism, again almost as a 
matter of course ; often indeed with heartfelt prayer and 
longing, but with no question of danger involved in the act. 
It is a perfectly simple thing to do. More attention would 
in fact be drawn by 7iot doing it than by doing it. 

At Batala, as in thousands of other Heathen and 
Muhammadan cities, things are widely different. Sharp 
lines of demarcation are drawn between the Christian 
and the non-Christian, — between the Church and the 

299 



300 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

heathen world around. It was so most markedly when 
Charlotte Tucker lived in Batala. There, as in Early 
Christian days, was the great mass of those who neither 
knew nor cared for the Names of God and Christ ; and in 
their midst was the Infant Church, a tiny body of brave 
men and women, who had come out from amongst the 
Heathen and Muhammadans, to be known as the servants 
of Christ.^ 

And the step which led from the one to the other stood 
clear and defined, with no possibility of a mistake. The 
marching-orders which our Lord and Master issued were 
not only to go forth and teach. Here is the fuller 
version : ' Go ye therefore, and teach ' {^Rev, Ver. ' make 
disciples of) 'all nations, baptizing THEM IN THE Name 
OF THE Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 
Ghost ; teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I 
have commanded you.' 

That was the great order given ; that was the 
command which had to be obeyed, whether at Batala or 
elsewhere. And however easy a matter Baptism in 
England may be, it is no easy matter in the Panjab for 
Converts from Heathenism or from Muhammadanism. 
It is a step of overwhelming importance. It means leav- 
ing the world of idolatry, ignorance, superstition, behind, 
and entering the Church of Christ. It also means too 
often leaving all things earthly that have most been loved. 
It means persecution, beating, cruelty, hard words and 
harsher deeds. It means wives separated from husbands, 
mothers separated from children, loss of money, loss of the 
means of livelihood, danger not seldom to life itself It is 
the passing of the Rubicon. 

Again, in that Infant Church at Batala, — or, one may 
equally say, in the Church at Amritsar, and throughout 
the Panjab, — we find reproduced the various elements 

1 Though I speak in the past tense, the same terms apply to the present. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 301 

which existed in Early Church days. There are strong 
Christians and weak Christians ; there are whole-hearted 
ones and wavering ones ; there are the true and the false. 
What wonder? — when the very foundation-stones of the 
Church of Christ included a Judas. Wheat and tares w^ll 
grow together until the end ; and bad fish as well as good 
will be caught in the net. The Church planted in a new 
place is seldom long without her Demas, who loves this 
present heathen world, and goes back to it again. 

But for one who is unfaithful, for one who turns his 
back upon the Light, after seeming to be indeed a Convert, 
there are many who stand firm, persevering to the end, 
despite difficulties, discouragements, and bitter oppositions. 
These brave brown brothers and sisters of ours, who are 
still in the fires of persecution, from which England has 
been so long delivered, deserve our warmest sympathy. 

In giving the story of Charlotte Tucker, and of the 
growth of the Church at Batala, with which she was so 
intimately associated, it is of very real importance to show 
frankly both sides of the picture, — the dark side, as 
well as the bright ; the cloudy as well as the sunshiny. 
There were of course disappointments as well as en- 
couragements. There were goings backward as well as 
pressings forward. Missionary life is no more one of 
unbroken success, even at its best, than any other kind of 
hard-working life, with a high aim before it ; and to 
present it as such, by omitting to describe failure side by 
side with success, would — and often does — produce only a 
sense of unreality. The story of the Church throughout 
the ages has always been a chequered tale. 

Hard as Miss Tucker toiled, she had not the delight of 
seeing many individuals won to Christianity through her 
own efforts. Results of what she did, still more of what 
she was, were visible enough to others, — but rather in the 
shape of a general and widespread influence than in the 



302 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

shape of conversions directly due to her labours. The 
worth of any work can never be truly gauged by the 
amount of success which may appear to follow within 
a given time ; and to measure the extent or the effects of 
her loving influence, alike among younger Missionaries 
and among Indian Christians, especially among the boys 
in the Baring High School, is utterly impossible. 

No less impossible is it to measure the results of her 
years of toilsome work in Zenanas. Some here are dis- 
posed to assert freely that she accomplished very little. 
One Native Christian, sending a few slight memoranda, 
goes so far as to say : ' I feel sorry to have to add that 
she signally failed as a Missionary, if by that term is 
meant the preaching of the Gospel to the heathen of 
India.' A very great deal more than mere preaching is, 
of course, meant by the term ; but in any case this would 
be a most rash judgment for any man to venture to pass, 
were he English or Indian. No man could have entrance 
into the scores upon scores of Zenanas which she visited, 
to test for himself the effects of her work ; and we all 
know what hearsay evidence is worth. Even if he could 
find entrance, he would have no Divine power to see into 
the hearts of the people there. The fact that she herself 
saw few results says nothing ; for the best results are 
often slowest in appearing. Judging from apparent results 
is always a defective and a shallow proceeding. 

From beginning to end she never so far conquered the 
languages of North India as to speak them with ease. 
Grammar and construction she might and did to a con- 
siderable extent master, but colloquial fluency was not 
in her case attainable. Still, though she never became 
actually fluent, it is a matter of unquestionable fact that 
she did both understand and make herself understood, 
despite occasional verbal mistakes. There are testimonies 
from all sides which abundantly prove this. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 303 

Her mode of working in Zenanas was peculiar to herself ; 
and though she ahvays held to it, she did not put it 
forward as a model for every one else to imitate. She 
made no attempt at systematic instruction, probably 
feeling her knowledge of the languages unequal to the 
task ; and this in itself was a drawback. ' In point of 
fact/ as one says who was associated with her, ' she never 
considered herself as a teacher, but rather, like St. John the 
Baptist, as a " voice crying in the wilderness." Her visits 
were almost always short,' — though to this rule there were 
evidently exceptions, — ' she seems to have gone in, greeted 
the people, given her message, and taken courteous leave. 
She always deprecated any attempt to judge of her work 
by the number of Zenanas on her visiting list ; and indeed 
it would not be fair to do so, as she did not undertake 
regular teaching in them.' 

Zenana-visiting was only one portion of her work ; 
regarded by herself as the more important portion, but not 
necessarily the more important because she thought so. 
We ourselves are poor judges of the comparative worth 
of the different things which we have to do. She was 
also a warm and true friend to the Indian Christians, 
entering into their trials and difficulties, throwing herself 
into their interests, doing her utmost to help them onward, 
to lift them upward. In this direction she had a remark- 
able degree of influence ; and in her intercourse with them 
she was absolutely without pride, she was full of kindli- 
ness, consideration, and affection. 

With the schoolboys, as already seen, she was in her 
element. The old spirit of fun, the old devotion to games, 
were invaluable here ; neither having faded with increasing 
age. One of her dharm-nephews. Dr. Weitbrecht, writing 
about the High School in Batala, says : — 

' From this time for years to come Miss Tucker was a mainstay of 
the Boys' Boarding School, teaching the elder boys the English 



304 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

language and history, taking a motherly interest in all their pursuits, 
writing for them Batala School songs, inviting them in the evenings 
to little social entertainments, enlivened by parlour games ; visiting 
the sick, comforting the home-sick new boy ; mothering the young 
convert, who had been sent to Batala not less for spiritual shelter 
than for instruction ; and upholding the hands of workers in the 
School and Mission generally ; besides carrying on without fail her 
regular visits to the town and villages, and her literary work for 
publication, both in England and India.' 

One of the former schoolboys, now a Native surgeon in 
India, Dr. I. U. Nasir, writes on the same subject : — 

' Her good influence on the young minds cannot be overrated. 
Her Bible Classes were eagerly looked for and well attended, — it 
may be, for the sake of lozenges and bits of cake which she dis- 
tributed at the end, but also for the interest she made everybody feel 
in the meeting. She would begin by asking the verse and subject of 
the morning sermon, and the various points of interest worth re- 
membering. This led to the habit of closely attending to the sermon. 
. . . Then every one had a choice of a hymn to be practised for the 
evening services of the week ; a short verse of the Bible was repeated ; 
and Sunday enigmas from the Bible were solved.' 

And also with reference to social week-day evenings — 

' She amused us with stories, comic songs, historical anecdotes, 
making anagrams, giving riddles to be solved, and several amuse- 
ments of the kind. Many an evening was spent in Miss Tucker's 
drawing-room, playing various indoor games, of which chess and 
word-making and word-taking were her favourites. In the latter 
game she would consider it a great triumph to have made such long 
words as "Jerusalem artichoke." But she took particular delight in 
showing her old scrap-album to any one who desired to see it. Many 
an interesting incident was dropped in connection with her relatives, 
as she turned leaf after leaf with her old slender fingers. She never 
got tired of this. Then she would select good scenes from Shake- 
speare, whom she called " The Poet of Conscience," and give us 
lessons in recitation and acting.' 

Charlotte Tucker had a profound belief in the good 
moral influence of Shakespeare. She is said to have 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 305 

greatly wished that the Indians could have the benefit 
of Shakespeare translated into their Native languages. 

In addition to the Baring School boys, she had a 
neverfailing interest in the lads of the Mission Plough 
School, started mainly by herself, and afterwards endowed 
by her with the sum of ;^5o a year. She constantly 
visited there, and taught the scholars, knowing many of 
the older boys by name, and asking them from time to 
time to pay her Sunday afternoon visits. 

Moreover, outside all these occupations, A. L. O. E. was 
still an Author. For some years, indeed, after her arrival 
in India she wrote for India only, and not especially for 
England. When, however, it became gradually clear 
that books suitable for Indian readers were not adapted 
for England, she found time to accomplish separate 
volumes for home publication. Some would say that her 
writings for the Native population of Hindustan are by 
far the most important part of her whole Missionary work. 
By her pen she could reach thousands, even tens of 
thousands, where by her voice she could reach at most 
only dozens. Her tiny Indian booklets, published by 
the Christian Literature Society at very low prices, 
are among the most widely selling of the Society's pro- 
ductions. 

It was only by an exceedingly systematic mode of life 
and endless toil that Miss Tucker could get through what 
she did. She was always up very early, — at 6 A.M. in 
winter, at 4J or 5 A.M. in summer, — and her day was 
carefully apportioned out. Six weeks' holiday in the year 
was permitted by the Society under which she worked, 
and she would seldom take more than a month of this in 
the hottest weather, that she might be able to get away 
for a few days at some other time, without infringing on 
her full ten months and a half of work. Often part of her 
so-called holiday was spent in looking after or in acting as 
U 



3o6 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

companion to somebody else, — or in undertaking work 
during the absence of other Missionaries from their posts. 
The marvel is, not that after a few years she should have 
grown to look older than she was, but that her health 
could in any degree have stood so great and constant a 
strain. Few people in the prime of life could have done 
and endured what she did and endured in the evening of 
her days. 

Very early after her arrival in India, as stated in a 
previous chapter, the Natives seemed disposed to credit 
Miss Tucker with an astonishing number of years ; but 
too much must not be thought of this. It arose from 
the fact that a grey-haired English lady out there is a 
complete rara avis — a sight seldom to be seen. Miss 
Wauton's first impressions of her, jotted down as follows, 
do not give the impression of a very old lady, dearly as 
Charlotte Tucker loved to describe herself in those terms : 
' Tall, slight, with lofty brow, sparkling eye, face con- 
stantly beaming with love and intelligence ; genius in 
every look ; figure frail and fairy-like, agile and graceful ; 
very brisk movements and light tread.' Hardly like a 
hundred years old ! After a few years had passed she did 
no doubt age rapidly. 

Mention has several times been made of Miss Tucker's 
readiness to give ; and when one recalls the abounding 
generosity of her father, not to speak of the story of 
her grandmother on the Boswell side giving away to a 
beggar the last coin in the house, one can hardly be 
surprised at the generous tendencies of Charlotte Tucker's 
character. She had the gift of liberality by inheritance ; 
and she cultivated her gift as a matter of principle. Giving 
was at all times a real delight to her. A quotation on 
this subject from Mr. Beutel may well come in here : — 

' Miss Tucker was ahvays very liberal. Wheresoever there was 
need or distress that she heard of, she gave substantial help 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 307 

immediately. I well remember, for instance, after I had taken over 
charge of the Boys' Orphanage, one time there were between thirty 
and forty boys to be fed and clothed, and no money left in hand. As 
soon as Miss Tucker heard of it, she immediately sent me ^10 ; and 
I must confess such a blessing rested on that money, that I never 
came into similar straits during the twelve years that I had charge of 
the Boys' Orphanage. 

'And again, before we settled at Clarkabad, there was a great 
scarcity of grain, in consequence of the failure of crops among the 
Zamindars. They had very little to eat, and no seed-corn to sow. 
All wanted some help, and I had no money in hand. . . . When ]Miss 
Tucker heard of it, immediately she sent us Rs.300; and our 
greatest need was at an end. 

'Again, in 1889, when a dear friend of mine, Pastor and Teacher 
in the United States of North America, with whom I had come 
out to India in 1869, had decided to return to India as a Mis- 
sionary, in order to join and to help me in the multifarious work at 
Clarkabad, and he found that the money in hand was insufficient to 
pay for his and his family's voyage from Germany, and Miss Tucker 
heard of it, she immediately sent me ^100, with the direction to for- 
ward that sum to him, on condition that he had not left Germany 
again for America. This, however, had already taken place in the 
meantime, and the money was returned to her. 

'Again, in 1892, after we had returned to Kotgur, where there was 
a great scarcity in the district, and many poor people had hardly one 
meal a day to eat, and Miss Tucker heard that I gave relief work to 
some forty or fifty people, she sent me another Rs.ioo.' 

These are merely a few among innumerable instances 
which might be quoted ; though generally the gifts were 
so quietly bestowed that few or none except the recipient 
knew about the matter. It was not, however, only in 
money that she was generous. The very necessaries sent 
for her own use, the very clothes sent for her own 
wear, would be given freely away to the first person 
who seemed in need of them. Mrs. Hamilton, learning 
something of this, at one time tried in despair calling her 
gifts ' loans,' in the hope that they might be thus secured 
for Charlotte Tucker's own benefit. In later years, when 
a parcel arrived from England, Miss Tucker would some- 



3o8 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

times not allow her Missionary companions to see what it 
contained, that she might feel more free to give away as 
she felt disposed. 

The Rev. Robert Clark speaks of Miss Tucker as ' an 
English Christian Faqir/ — a curious use of the term, 
which he applies also to one or two other Missionaries. 
The original idea of ' Christian Faqirs,' sometimes 
referred to in Miss Tucker's own letters, was of Native 
Faqirs, who, on becoming Christians, kept still to their 
old mode of life, going about as before, teaching Chris- 
tianity instead of false religions, and not begging any 
longer, but receiving a small sum for their support from 
Englishmen. Mr. Clark, in speaking of A. L. O. E., 
doubtless uses the word in reference to her peculiar mode 
of entering into Indian ways, Indian customs, Indian 
thoughts, — as, for instance, sitting on the floor among 
them, instead of on a chair, travelling in an ekka like 
them, and so far as she was able living their life, — as 
well as to the rigid simplicity and self-denial which she 
cultivated. 

After alluding to the manner of her earlier English life, 
and contrasting it with the manner of her existence at 
Batala, where ' two chairs were placed on two sides of a 
table in a large and almost unfurnished room,' Mr. Clark 
continues : ' Miss Tucker ate very little. She always told 
us to tell her beforehand if we were going to see her, in 
order that she might have something to place before us. 
There was then no railway ; and everything had to be 
brought from Amritsar once or twice a week. The bread 
often became very hard. She sometimes said, " Do try this 
piece ; it seems a little softer." Her guests were thinking 
all the time of her tender gums, and of her teeth which 
were no longer young.' 

On first going to Batala Charlotte Tucker had had the 
idea in her mind of inaugurating there a sort of ' Zenana ' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 309 

of maiden Missionary ladies, — a close retreat, from which 
the foot of Man should be utterly and always excluded. 
Probably this was part of her desire to imitate the ways 
of Natives. Some judicious combating was needed to 
break her loose from it ; though when once a gentleman- 
Missionary had actually arrived, theories went down before 
the spirit of hospitality. 

Once again it should be noted, that when in her letters 
she writes home enthusiastically about all her comforts 
and luxuries, these descriptions must be taken cum grano 
salis. She had not the slightest intention of misleading 
anybody ; but she was very anxious to put a brave 
face on the matter ; moreover, she was a Missionary Miss 
Sahiba, and she might not grumble. Everything was for 
her right just as it was. But another side to the question 
did exist. 

In the year 1879 ^^s- Elmslie, being at home, paid a 
visit to Mrs. Hamilton ; and one day she could not help 
remarking, ' When I see how comfortable you are here, 
and think of your sister, it makes me sad.' Her tone was 
almost reproachful ; for she was mentally comparing 
A. L. O. E.'s barely furnished rooms with the abundance 
of comforts in this home. Evidently she thought Miss 
Tucker badly off, and wondered why her friends did not 
assist her more. Explanations naturally followed ; and 
when she learnt the true state of the case, when she heard 
the amount of Charlotte Tucker's comfortable little income, 
she was astonished. The manner of life steadily followed 
out was, in fact, no matter of necessity, but purely a 
matter of principle. Miss Tucker counted a life of rigid 
simplicity worthier her vocation as a Missionary than 
one of greater ease could have been. She therefore kept 
to a certain sum of money yearly for her own expenses, 
while giving much away in addition ; she made her clothes 
last as long as it was possible for them to hold together ; 



3IO THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

she had hardly any furniture in her rooms ; and she refused 
all luxuries, including some things which in India are 
commonly reckoned not luxuries, but absolute necessaries. 

The following particulars have been kindly supplied to 
me by Miss Wauton and others. 

Her style of living, at all times extremely simple, was 
particularly so at the time that she shared a home with 
Mr. Baring. She scarcely, indeed, allowed herself even the 
most ordinary comforts. Her bedroom furniture consisted 
of a native bedstead, a small table, a wardrobe and two 
chairs, with a piece of thin matting on the floor, and 
one or two thin ' durries.' ^ Always an early riser. Miss 
Tucker never liked her Ayah to find her still in bed. 
When she first got up, she used to heat a cup of cocoa 
with her little etna, for her ' chhoti hazari.' ^ Miss Tucker 
always disliked very much being waited on, and preferred 
to do things for herself She treated the servants very 
courteously, always addressing the Ayah as ' Bibi ji ' ; and 
any little thing offered to her at table was accepted with 
a * Thank you,' or declined with a ' No, thank you,' spoken 
in English, as there is in Hindustani no equivalent for the 
expression of gratitude. 

Together with her marvellous activity of mind and of 
body was seen a wonderful amount of patience under 
suffering or discomfort. In the very hot weather she 
would say to her companions, ' Let me be the first to com- 
plain of the heat ' ; — and of course she never did complain. 
She used to ascribe her good health in Batala to the 
absence there of three things, generally counted indispens- 
able by Europeans in India. She had, first, no doctor \ 
she had, second, no gari\ she had, third, no ice. The want 
of the latter must have been a serious deprivation. The 
lack of a gari, or carriage, was supplied by her duli, by the 
native ekka, and by her own walking-powers. As for 

1 Cotton mats. 2 Early breakfast. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 311 

doctors, — she had, when ill, to go to them, like other 
people, and to be grateful for their help. Doctors were 
not, however, favourites with A. L. O. E. She was perhaps 
a little hard upon them ; since, on the one hand, she 
professed not to trust their skill ; and on the other hand, 
she looked upon them as rather cruel than kind, in trying 
to keep her longer upon Earth, away from the Home 
where she wished to be. 
Miss Wauton says : — 

' All she had was put at the disposal of others. Every book 
sent out was lent round to the different Mission circles, or in any 
place where it might give pleasure or profit. She always had some 
interesting book on hand, and kept her mind richly stored with 
knowledge, being specially fond of history. She allowed me once 
to be present when giving an English History lesson to a class of 
Baring High School boys. I could have wished myself one of them, 
to have had such teaching constantly ! She was very independent of 
intercourse with other minds, yet thoroughly enjoyed social pleasures. 
I never saw any one so carry out the precept — " Rejoice with them that 
do rejoice." Nowhere did she seem so much at home as at the 
wedding-feast ; and no wedding-party seemed complete without her.' 

But though she could be the life and soul of a wedding 
feast — perhaps especially of a Native wedding feast, — Miss 
Tucker was not in all cases an advocate of marriage The 
Rev. Robert Clark speaks of her as — 'jealous of the 
marriage of any of our Lady Missionaries, especially to 
those gentlemen who were, as she said, " outside of the 
family." ' He adds : ' In her verses on the duties and 
qualifications of ladies for IMissionary work in India, the 
last couplet was, I think, as follows : — 

"The Mission Miss Sahiba must single remain. 
Or else she'll step out of her proper domain." 

A friend who married one of our Missionary ladies, and 
who was nominally outside the Mission family, but who 
was and still is one of us, added the words — 

"And never will be a Miss Sahiba again !"' 



312 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

This quotation from Mr. Clark lands us in another sub- 
ject, and one of no small importance. Charlotte Tucker, 
going as she did to India when well on in middle life, 
looked upon herself as a possible Pioneer, a possible 
example to others, and hoped that many more might be 
led to do the same. But she was never under the delusion 
that anybody and everybody is fitted for a Missionary 
life, — even granting the spiritual adaptedness. There must 
be of course whole-hearted devotion to Christ, whole- 
hearted love to man, and whole-hearted self-abnegation ; 
but there must also be certain natural capabilities, certain 
conditions of health and vigour. Beyond all, there must 
be the Divine call to work in the Mission-fields. All this 
Charlotte Tucker felt with increasing earnestness as years 
went on ; and she was often at pains to explain the kind 
of workers wanted out there, to warn against the kind of 
workers not wanted. 

Before giving extracts from the correspondence of 1879, 
two or three quotations of different dates shall be given 
on this subject, beginning with a letter written to a lady 
who had thoughts of offering herself: — 

'Batala, Dec. 3, 1878. 

' My dear Madam, — Hearing that you have some idea of giving 
yourself to Mission work in India, I think that you may like to hear 
the impressions of one who — after dear ones no longer required her 
care — gave herself to that work. 

' I have now been for three years in India, and I have never for 
one minute regretted coming. I do sometimes feel that there is need 
of patience ; one has a number of petty inconveniences and annoy- 
ances, from which we are guarded in England. Whoever comes out 
as a Missionary should pray for a brave, patient, cheerful spirit, and a 
submissive will. But if these be granted, I should say that the 
Missionary life is a very happy one. 

' There is a great charm in being carried back to the days of the 
Apostles ; for in an isolated station, like Batala or Kulu, there is much 
to remind one of the First Century. Then there is joy in the hope 
that one is putting out the intrusted talents — be they few or many — 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 



jij 



to the best interest. One's time, one's money, one's efforts, seem to 
go further here. I have often thought, " India is the place to make 
the One talent — Ten." The work is so very great, the labourers so few ! 

'There is another thing which has intensely sweetened my 
Missionary life. It is finding myself a member of the Missionary 
Family. It has been said that there are no friendships like those 
made in youth. It has not been my experience. I have no dearer 
friendships than those made in advanced years. God has given me 
a number of new Relatives (I call them dharm nephews and nieces), 
and the tie is as real as that made by blood-relationship. . . . 

' In coming out as a Missionary, one has to devote oneself to duties 
which are sometimes what would be called drudgery, and leave the 
care of one's happiness to the Divine Master, whom we attempt to 
serve. He takes far better care of our happiness than we can. 

'Allow me, dear Madam, to add another word. If you come out, 
you should start soon^ to avoid the heat of the Red Sea. As regards 
outfit, you would find a tin-bath, in a basket-case, to be used in 
travelling as a trunk, a great comfort here. It is well to bring out a 
few pictures and pretty things ; and, if you are musical, your 
instrument. Medicines are very useful. Warm clothes are requisite, 
as well as light ones. Cotton gloves are a comfort in the season when 
kid shrivels and dries. 

' Not without a hope that I may one day welcome you as a Sister- 
worker, I remain, dear Madam, yours very sincerely, C. ]M. Tucker.' 

In a paper written some few years later by A. L. O. E., 
containing a list of things needed to make a good and 
serviceable Missionary, the following are enumerated — as 
usual, symbolically expressed : — 

' We need not dwell on the necessity of Faith and Love, which may 
be represented as Gold. To start without these would be presumption 
worse than folly. . . . And so with the only less valuable metal. Silver 
— Knowledge. It is self-evident that such is required. . . . 

' And a great deal of Steel is needed . . . some physical, and, 
above all, ?noral Courage is required. Nervous weakness of character 
is undesirable at home ; it would be a grievous misfortune in India. 
... A Missionary should claim the Christian's privilege of fearing 
no evil. . . . 

' The old saying is, Nothing like leather. . . . What I would symbolise 
by Leather is a capacity for encountering drudgery., something that 
will bear the strain of daily and often monotonous work. . . . Give us 



314 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

tough leather, such as harness and straps are made of ; no romantic 
sentimentahty, but steady, resohite Perseverance. 

'Another useful article is a Letter-weigher^ by which I would 
represent Sound Judgment. . . . There is special experience required 
for work in a foreign land. It has often occurred to my mind what a 
blessing in disguise it is that Missionaries have to toil to acquire a 
new language ; such delay giving them time to learn something of 
Native character, manners, and ideas. If language came by intuition, 
we should make many more blunders in other things than we do now ; 
and such blunders are numerous enough already. . . . 

' Another necessary must not be forgotten — a White-covered 
Umbrella^ representing Prudence regarding health. The white cover 
is specially mentioned, symbolising the pure desire to economise 
health for the sake of God's cause, without which mere prudence 
would be of very minor value. . . 

' Only one more necessary I would mention, and it may provoke a 
smile : Be sure to bring a box of Salve, and not a very small one 
either. When maidens of different antecedents, rank, age, tempera- 
ment, and — in minor matters — opinions, are brought together in 
closest proximity, in a climate which tries the temper, there is at 
least a possibility of some slight rubs, which without the soothing 
ointment brought by the Peacemaker may even develop into sores.' 

TO 

^ Feb. 19, 1879. 

' I hope that good Miss will not leave her present field of 

great usefulness for India. It is a sad mistake for those with her 
delicacy of head to come out to the Panjab. " Panjab heads " are 
proverbial. Our band is too small for any to be told off as nurses. 
Very delicate workers should not come out to this trying climate. 
For those whose constitutions are fitted for it, the Panjab is a glorious 
field. It is a place where the one talent may become ten. All sorts 
of gifts come into use ; aptitude in buying and selling ; engineering 
skill ; love of music ; a mechanical turn, etc., may be turned to 
such valuable account. 

' It is not a mere matter of preaching to the heathen. An Infant 
Church has to be built up ; openings are to be made for converts, 
that they may earn their bread ; churches have to be raised with small 
funds and no architects, etc. A man who can carpenter, garden, or 
put in panes of glass, may find his knowledge most useful. A bold 
rider, a good shot, is at an advantage here. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 315 

' Missionary life is not just like what one fancies it in England. 
We do not want bookworms so much as active, intelligent, devoted 
men, who can turn their hands to anything, and who, in addition to 
Missionary zeal, have plenty of commofi sense. God grant that 

Cambridge may send us many such ! Mr. is one ; a very 

valuable man, though not gifted with eloquence, nor quick at learning 
languages. He has a clear sound judgment, and a power of adapting 
himself to varying circumstances, and of undergoing drudgery.' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

''March 24, 1879. 
' No, my dearest Leila, I could not in conscience urge poor dear 
to come out here. It would be cruel. Any one who in England 



suffers from headache, liver, back, and uneven spirits, I would rather 
entreat to avoid the Panjab. . . . She would be one of the choice 
delicate palfreys, yoked to artillery, who break down and give extra 
work to the already fully- taxed horses. If you only knew what the 
illnesses of those who ought never to have come oitt have cost others 
as well as themselves ! . . . The Lord does not call all His children 
to India. There ought to be a certain fitness of constitution to dwell 
in a fever-land. I am so thankful that I am not constitutionally 
liable to headache, and that fever does not naturally cling to me. 
But I walk warily, as one in an enemy's country.' 

TO W. F. T. HAMILTON. 

'■May 20 {probably 1879). 

'Your dear Mother sends me delightful accounts of the devotion of 
some of the Cambridge men, and their readiness to engage in 
Missionary work, if they saw the way clear. Now, dearest Fred, 
could there be a clearer opening than at Batala for an earnest 
Christian man, whether in Orders or not ? I am not thinking of you, 
for I would not have any one subject to headaches come to this 
feverish land ; but I am thinking of your brother collegians. Batala, 
for evangelisation, is a very central point ; no end of work might be 
done ; and it is a hopeful place. . . . 

' But I will be more minute in particulars. ... I am not writing 
of one who wishes to become one of the regular salaried Missionaries 
of our Society ; but of one who has the means to be an Honorary 
worker. Say he has an income of ^100. He would find at Batala 
a home^ — not a very luxurious one, but cjuite enough so for a 
Missionary. His ^100 would be enough for all his personal wants, 



3i6 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

unless he travelled much ; and he might keep a little horse, unless, 

like , he preferred spending his extra rupees on something else. 

He could at once help with English classes, if he chose to do so, 
and in the meantime learn the language. . . . If he had a taste for 
shooting and fishing, he would find means of gratifying it ; and if he 
were a good cricketer, it would add to his influence over our boys. If 
he had any architectural skill, he would help us to build our church. 
If he were musical, it would be a great advantage. He might lead a 
very happy life, and an exceedingly useful one. We are in such 
want of men ; not mere bookworms, but earnest, devoted, bright, 
active Christians, who can turn their hands to everything, and help 
to mould the minds of our rising generation. We want more St. 
Pauls I ' 

This chapter can hardly be better closed than by 
quoting Miss Tucker's descriptive lines as to the necessary 
qualifications for a ' Mission Miss Sahiba,' already alluded 
to. They were written at Amritsar, as early as the year 
1876:— 

RULES AND REGULATIONS 

'The Mission Miss Sahibas must never complain ; 
The Mission Miss Sahibas must temper restrain — 
When " sust " ^ pankah-wala won't pull at the cane ; 
Must never be fanciful, foolish, or vain. 

' The Mission Miss Sahiba in dress must be plain ; 
The Mission Miss Sahibas must furnish their brain, — 
Of two or three languages knowledge obtain, — 
When weary and puzzled, must try, try again ; 
We cannot learn grammar by /eger de main. 

' The Mission Miss Sahiba must know every lane, 
Climb ladder-like stairs, without fearing a sprain ; 
The Mission Miss Sahibas must speak very plain. 
Must rebuke and encourage, must teach and explain ; 
The Mission Miss Sahibas must grasp well the rein ; 
The Mission Miss Sahibas must not look for gain. 
Though doctoring sick folk, like Jenner or Quain. 

1 Idle. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 317 

' Let Mission Miss Sahibas from late hours refrain, 
For they must rise early, and bear a hard strain, 
Like vigorous cart-horses, drawing a wain, 
That pull well together, when yoked twain and twain. 
The Mission Miss Sahibas must work might and main, 
And therefore good nourishment should not disdain, — 
Or danger is great of their going insane. 

' The Mission ]\Iiss Sahibas must topis ^ retain. 
Must guard against sunstroke, to health such a bane ; 
And midst frogs and mosquitoes must patient remain, 
Yes, e'en when tormented, must smile through their pain ; 
And, with courage like that of the knights of Charlemagne, 
By Mission Miss Sahibas snakes should be slain. 

'The Mission Miss Sahibas should sow well the grain. 
Dark babies should fondle, dark women should train, 
And Bibis and Begums at times entertain ; 
Should smile and should soothe, but not flatter or feign ; 
And to usefulness thus they may hope to attain. 

N.B. — Let all Mission Miss Sahibas single remain, — 

If they don't, they step out of their proper domain, — 
And can never be Mission j\Iiss Sahibas again ! ' 

1 Hats. 



CHAPTER IX 

A.D. 1879 
THE CHURCH AT BATALA 

The annals of 1879 are as usual very abundant, and space 
can only be found for a limited selection of extracts. 
Miss Tucker was much distressed about the Afghan war ; 
not because of any possible peril or discomfort to herself, 
but because her judgment disapproved of it as a whole, 
and also because of the sufferings which she knew it must 
entail upon the soldiers. 

While the larger number of extracts given are, throughout 
her Indian career, in reference to the work going on round 
about her, it must not be supposed that her love for 
relatives and old friends, or her interest in all that con- 
cerned them, ever for a moment waned. The letters teem 
with loving words and messages ; and every item of news 
from England is received with delight Her affections 
seem to have grown stronger rather than weaker, through 
long separation. 

' Batala, y<2;z. 16, 1879. — Mine own Laura, how could you write 
regarding the little meeting, at which you and sweet Margaret were, 
"Would you not like to be in my shoes at the time, and hold your 
darling friend in your arms ? " I would much rather have been in 
Margarefs shoes^ and have held some one else in my arms, — only for 
the wrench that would have followed ! But O love, we are 
travelling in the same train, only in different carriages ; and I am 
thankful that though we cannot see each other, we can as it were 
talk to each other out of the windows. What a blessing the Post is ! ' 

318 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 319 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

^Jan. 20, 1879. 

' Ours is not to be a village church, dear, but one in a city of more 
than 25,000 inhabitants, where there are graceful mosques, a large 
idol-temple, etc. A mere mud shed would be quite out of character ; 
our present room in a schoolhouse would be better than that. There 
is considerable difficulty and expense in buying a site. It ought to be 
in the city. I have written to dear about one which Mr. Baring- 
has seen, but it is very doubtful whether the place can be purchased. 

' My nephew and I are both economical, and I think that you and 
dear Fred may depend on money not being wasted in useless 
decorations. But the sacred edifice ought to be of brick, and pretty 
strong, not only to endure for years, but also to keep out the heat. A 
tiny church would not cost much ; one so small that beams could 
reach from side to side. But if our Church is to go on growing, as 
we hope and pray that it may, what would be the advantage of having 
a tiny chapel, which would not comfortably accommodate ourselves 
in a fiery climate, and in which there would be no room at all for 
heathen spectators? We should be wanting a secojid ; and how 
could we procure a second clergyman ? Please thank dear Fred 
very, very much for his kindness in collecting, and assure him that 
we wish to make the money go as far as possible.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''Jait. 31. — I sometimes think that it is well for me that I have no 

one to carry cushions after me, — as the dear A s made the boys 

do in George Square,— or to watch my face to see if I look pale. 
I have been enabled to make efforts, for which I might not have 
thought my frame capable, and have kept my health wonderfully. 

' This is the eighth day that I have not seen an English person I 
]\Iera Bhatija has been away on duty ; but I hope to have him back 
to-morrow. I shall not be sorry to see him again ; we are becoming 
more and more like real Aunt and Nephew. He wanted me to go to 
Amritsar during his needful absence ; but there were strong reasons 
against that. . . . 

'As regards health, we are between Scylla and Charybdis. People 
in India cannot help thinking a great deal about it, because five 
minutes' carelessness may wreck health for life ; yet it is a great 
matter for us, if possible, to keep from sinking to the languid 
" cannot-do-anything " point. To rest there is something like letting 
the head go under water. I often think of dear Uncle Tom's 
expression,— " Never say die ! " ' 



320 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

TO MRS. E 

^ Feb, 4, 1879. 

' My nephew, the Rev. F, Baring, has organised little relief works ; 
for, owing to drought, and partly to the war, there is much distress in 
Batala. If you were here, dear Aunt, it would interest you to walk 
about, leaning on my arm, and see poor men in their rags, women 
and children, carrying baskets of earth on their heads, to fill up that 
part of the tank which is nearest to the house. It is a good thing for 
us, but a better thing for the poor folk, who are thankful to earn their 
pice. Mr. Baring intends also to give poor women in the city 
employment in spinning, and to get a Christian native weaver to 
make the cotton into towels or napkins. . . . 

' Both my nephews, Mr. Bateman and Mr. Baring, are very clever 
in finding ways to start the Converts in life, giving them means of 
earning an honest livelihood. One fine lad has a place in the Woods 
and Forests Department ; another is learning work in the Press ; a 
third is to be employed in a religious book-shop ; a fourth convert is 
doing profitable business as a small wood-merchant. Another, who 
has a little money of his own, intends to set up a small shop in his 
own village. This is rather brave, as, only a month or two ago, he 
was driven forth by his own family with threats and curses. It 
seems to me that a very important part of a Missionary's work is to 
watch over converts after Baptism, both as regards body and soul. 
In the Church, in the time of the Apostles, converts were not left 
to starve. They must not be idle, but they must have the means 
of earning their bread. We also greatly wish that every Native 
convert should feel it to be his or her work to bring in others to 
Christ. . . . 

' We intend to have a Fancy Fair in April, for the Church which 
we hope to build ; but the great puzzle will be to find buyers, — Mr. 
Baring and myself being the only white folk in Batala, and Natives 
generally disliking to spend money, except on marriages, funerals, 
jewels, and sweetmeats.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

' March 3. — I have another dear letter, to-day received, to thank 
you for. You need take no thought, love, about where I sit. We have 
benches in chapel ; and as for my duli — to sit on its flat floor does 
not hurt me in the least. I dare say that dear E. never got into 
the way of it ; but I take to it as a duck to the water. The only 
difficulty is the scrambfing out of the box ; but this does me no 
harm ; it is wholesome exercise. As for a carriage, it would be 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 321 

useless in Batala. I was regularly blocked in to-day, even in my 
tiny duli. The streets are so narrow and so crowded. . . .' 

TO w. F. T. ha:\iiltox. 

^ March 17. 

'Our saintly Bishop, Dr. French, is now our guest. . . . We are 
having such an interesting time, a heart- warming time ! There is to 
be a Confirmation to-morrow ; and oh, through what fiery trials some 
of the dear candidates have come I There is B — n, . . . the first 
man who dared to be baptized in bigoted Batala. His Baptism 
cost him wife and child. There is the thin, worn B. D., with his 
hair turning grey ; the only Christian in his village, he whom his 
own mother has reviled. . . . There is the aged Faqir and his 
stalwart sons, — but I need not enumerate all. I have told you 
enough to show what peculiar features of interest may attend a 
Confirmation in India, — especially perhaps in so thoroughly Oriental 
a place as this, where there are no Europeans at all but my nephew 
and myself 

'Ours is such a dear little Church,— I am not aware that there is 
one really black sheep in it, though there are some infirm ones. Ten 
women are to receive Confirmation. I think that all but perhaps one 
have been converts from Muhammadanism or Hinduism. I do not 
mean to say that they are all Batala people ; but Batala is a genial 
place to which converts seem drawn. 

' To-morrow, after Confirmation, we hope to spread, not the board 
but the^oor, for a goodly number of welcome guests, more even than 
we had at Christmas. One feels very thankful to see such a nice 
large Christian family. . . . Of course some Stations are more trying to 
faith; some of God's servants have to toil for years, and apparently 
catch nothing ; but about here in various directions one hears of 
converts and inquirers. There is feeling of It/e stirring among the 
dry bones.' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

^ April I, 1879. 

'Do you ever enter Trinity Church P^ Probably not, it is so far 
from you. To your sweet ^Mother and myself many memories are 
connected with it. Weddings and Christenings, — the overflowing 
pew, — the corner of it where we used to see the dear bald head of our 
venerated Father ! . . . 

1 Marylebone. 
X 



322 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

'We have a dear young convert from a village, who, like others, 
finds in Batala a refuge. A simple guileless lad, who likes to 
come, as dear U. did, to sit at one's feet, and have a talk about God's 
Word. . . . He does not know much, but enough to have enabled 
the lad to resist temptation and endure persecution. ... I wish that 

dear would take up the subject oi portable Bibles in Persian 

Urdu. Even the children of clever Christian parents are apt to be 
sadly ignorant of Old Testament Scriptures. How much would 
English school-children know of them, if they could only buy Bibles 
in three (Persian Urdu) large volumes, — or in one (Arabic Urdu), 
very large and heavy 1 

' It is not only the expense but the extreme inconvenience of such 
bulky books that must be considered. Mera Bhatija has English 
Urdu Bibles for his boys, but some read them with difficulty ; and 
we cannot expect a iiatioii to adopt a new type utterly different from 
its own. There is a beautifully written New Testament in Persian 
Urdu . . . light, easily carried about, and costing only half a rupee. 
This is a great boon ; but we want the Old Testament Scriptures. . . . 
They are at present almost shut out from the people. Our great 
want is a complete Bible, as delicately written out, and on as fine 
light paper, as the New Testament, and not very expensive. Most 
of the Natives are so very poor. I can scarcely imagine how they 
manage to live.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'Batala, April 20, 1879. 

' Your dear, sweet letter received to-day was like a nice little visit 
to me in my comparative loneliness. Mera Bhatija and Babu Singha 
are both away at Amritsar. ... If, when proposing to come out, I 
could have been told that I should be all alone in a house with 
thirteen Native boys, — my Ayah is absent from late illness, — I should 
have been startled, perhaps half-frightened. But these dear fellows 
do not worry me at all. I asked one of them yesterday: "If I 
were ill, which of you would nurse me?" "All of us," was the 
reply. I thought that thirteen boys would be too much for a sick- 
room ; so — " We would take it in turns," was the second answer. . . . 

' Many thanks, love, for the two copies of the nice work on 
Prophecies in the Old Testament. It ought to convince any candid 
mind. ... It might be valuable to English-reading Muhammadans. 
But it is not at all necessary with them to avoid the Blessed Saviour's 
Name. Yesterday, in a Zenana a bright-looking young woman 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 323 

exclaimed, not particularly apropos to anything that I was saying : 
" Jesus Christ is the Son of God." " Beshakh ! " (Without doubt !) 
instantly rejoined an older Bibi. 

' Not that the offence of the Cross has ceased. The persecution 

which dear is enduring shows this. He has been beaten five 

or six times ; and I think that we shall have to try to get his enemies 
bound over to keep the peace. Personally, 1 am courteously, some- 
times affectionately, treated. The poor converts are those who have 
to endure hardness ! ' 

''April 27. — I know that some of my dear ones think that I must 
be very lonesome, with no white woman near me. But there are 
three things to prevent this : — ist. The Presence of the Master. 
2nd, The feeling that separation of body is nothing compared to 
separation of soul. My ties to loved ones in England are not^ thank 
God, broken ! They do not depend on mere space. 3rd, Real 
loneliness, as regards even this world, is the want of love and 
sympathy. Some count my brown friends for nothing in this way. 
I do not do so. They draw out one's affections, and respond to 
them. The heart does not shrivel up in India, even when one lives 
in such an out-of-the-way place as Batala.' 

TO MISS ' LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'May I, 1879. 

I am sure that your dear Mother and you would peruse with 
interest Keshab Sen's lecture, or rather the review of it in the States- 
man which I sent home. . . . Keshab Sen was a brave man, not only 
as regards the Hindus, but the English officials, to say what he did. 
To aver that it is Christ's Religion — not our superior strength, 
wisdom, intelligence — that holds India for us, is likely to give great 
offence in high quarters. To say what this Hindu did of despised 
Missionaries, a band of weak-minded amiable enthusiasts, if not 
something more contemptible, — as the world thinks them, — showed 
moral courage. . . . He has probably made a good many people, 
both white and brown, angry. His cry, "Jesus alone ! — Jesus alone ! 
India for Christ ! " would find no echo in the large majority of 
hearts. . . . 

' I suspect that there is an impression amongst some Europeans, 
as well as Natives, that Auntie is very old. I have three times 
heard the latter say that I am a hundred ; and I notice that in the 
last Female Evangelist I am pronounced "advanced in years." 
To my mind that means at least seventy ! ! ! I was guessed to-day 



324 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

as eighty in a Zenana. But I must be thought a pretty active old 
dame, to get up such steep stairs as I do.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''June 2, 1879. — Of course I cannot tell what God wills for me. 
I do not intend to do anything foolish. I do not even let my mind 
dwell viiich on the joy of going to a Heavenly Home, because it 
would seem selfish at present to wish to desert others. I realise 
more the value of life below than I used to do, and am thankful 
that at former periods God did not fulfil my wish to leave this Earth 
for a better. He is a poor soldier who is always pining for the end 
of the campaign ! ' 

''June 14. — I never felt so that the Word of God in my hand was 
rejected, as in a Zenana to-day. When I came out, V., my kahar, 
said, "You should not go to that house again, I was outside, but 
I heard words that grieved me." But I had two nice Zenanas and 
a nice Native Christian home to balance. One of the nice Zenanas was 
N.'s. He spoke almost like a Christian, before his mother, grand- 
mother, and handsome young bride. They all seemed quite friendly.' 

''June 20. — Darling Laura, your sweet letter has arrived since I 
wrote the first note. Would you fairly kill me with kindness ? You 
have already done too much. No, my sweet sister, I would never 
like to take your money for needless luxuries, — of comforts I have 
many. Ice is not to be had, is ;z^/ needed, and I hardly ever even 
think of it. We are much better without a carriage ; walking is 
more wholesome, and to me more pleasant. I kissed the signature 
on the cheque — and then — destroyed it ! Forgive me ! In about 
two years I have had three cheques declined ; so you see that I 
have enough and to spare. I am quite easy-handed, love ; not at 
all in straits, thank God.' 

TO MISS ' LEILA' HAMILTON. 

{Probably July 1879.) 

' I am engaged in a matrimonial affair. B., Mera Bhatija's 
Christian servant, having just been rejected by one woman, solicits, 
through my Ayah, my good offices to find him a wife. He bears a 
first-rate character, and would make an excellent husband, but he 
has the single disadvantage of having only one leg. I know that 
Mera Bhatija wishes B. to have a nice wife ; so — after consulta- 
tion with one who knows the Orphanage maidens well, and has an 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 325 

excellent judgment, — I have fixed on a jolly, good-tempered girl, 
. . . able to cook and scrub, and have written a note to the Lady- 
Superintendent, requesting her permission for B. to pay court 
to C. C. is to be told of the lameness, etc., and then if she too 
be willing, B. will be allowed to have an interview with her. 
This interview decides the affair. Both parties have a negative 
voice ; both must be pleased ; and if so — the banns are published I 
This is the compromise between European and Oriental ways of 
arranging marriages. I think that Mera Bhatija takes a lively 
interest in the matter ; and if the marriage comes off, we should 
both like to have the wedding at Batala. The people here ought 
to have the opportunity of seeing a Christian wedding.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'July 29, 1879. 

' I will give you another of my little Batala sketches. I am sitting 
reading. Enters M., the tall one-armed Faqir (religious beggar), 
who has been acting as Mera Bhatija's pankah-wala. He evidently 
wants to talk with me ; so, seeing me willing to listen, the tall fellow 
seats himself on the floor, and begins . . . 

'The poor fellow had been thinking how he could earn his live- 
lihood, — he has a wife and four children, and of course religious 
begging would be for a convert both improper and unprofitable. 
" Pankah-pulling will last for but a short time," he very truly observed. 
His plan was to start a little school in his own village. 

' " But could you get pupils 1 " I asked, knowing that the humble 
converts are not kindly treated by their neighbours. 

' " I think that I could from the hamlets round." 

' Then I inquired as to the poor Faqir's qualifications for a teacher. 
" I can read the Gospel well," was the simple reply. 

' " Can you write ? " 

' He was weak in that, poor fellow. Having only one arm in- 
creases the difficulty. 

' " Do you know accounts ?" 

' " No," he frankly owned ; but he could learn ; he would take pains. 

'"You had better speak to the Padri Sahib; he makes all the 
bandobast (arrangements) ; he is wise and kind." 

'If /would speak to the Padri Sahib, — he could tell me ; but with 
the Padri Sahib he was shy, etc. 

' It is rather refreshing to see a Native Christian, especially one 
brought up to regard idleness rather as a virtue, turning over in 



326 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

his mind what he can do to earn his living. If we help poor M. 
to a little better education, perhaps his little village school may 
prove not a bad idea, for the scholars would learn what is good 
from him, though they could only have elementary teaching. I do 
not see why rustics should want high education. The Government 
are educating thousands of clever infidels, who cannot all find em- 
ployment as clerks, etc., and who will despise manual labour. We 
want simple pious labourers to mind the plough, spell out their 
Testaments, and try to obey God's commands.' 

August and September this year saw Miss Tucker, not 
at Dalhousie, but at Dilur, 3000 feet above the sea, with 
forest-clothed Himalayan slopes below, and snow above. 
She went there, partly for the change, but more for the 
sake of staying with a young married couple, to whom 
her companionship was a boon. The snow appears to 
have soon vanished, as in one letter, written in September, 
she observes : ' The mountains are quite high and bold 
enough for beauty, though to my comfort there is not a 
soupgon of snow upon any of them.' From the budget 
of Dilur letters, only two quotations can be given. The 
first is rare in style at this period of Charlotte Tucker's 
life. She seldom found time for written ' cogitations.' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

' DiLUR, Aug. 25. 

' This is a very quiet place ... so I have plenty of time for 
thinking. I have been musing to-day why it is so very much more 
easy to love some Christians than others. You and every other 
servant of God must feel this, I think. It is not quite easy to get 
at the bottom of the matter. I ought to have particular facilities 
for judging ; for, thank God, I find it easy to love a good many. 

' I have been considering to-day that simile of the four different 
circles round Him Who is the Centre of light, holiness, and beauty. 
Those who live nearest to Him, I do believe, actually catch some- 
thing, however faint, of His likeness. . . . Christ is the All-attrac- 
tive ; and in the degree that His redeemed ones reflect His Image, 
it seems to me that they unconsciously attract. If I be not mis- 
taken in this idea, one sees why anything of littleness or meanness 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 327 

repulses. Those possessing such quaUties may be sincere servants 
of Christ ; but these quahties spoil all likeness ! So, love, here is 
the result of my cogitations, as I reclined on the sofa to rest myself 
after rather a tiring little expedition. 

' But oh, what a solemnising thought it is ! — The likeness to Him, 
which we knoiu will be apparent in another world, to begin in this ! 
The glass of our souls, so spotted and dusty, — spotted with sin, 
and dusty with pettiness, — to be cleansed and polished, so as to 
receive such an Image ! But you and I, love, have caught a glimpse 
of that Image in those whom we have been privileged to know ; 
have we not?' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''Sept. 29. 
'Yes, precious Laura, you might be sure that Char does not 
forget you in prayer any day ; but your last dear letter from Ilfra- 
combe made me more inclined to praise. It seemed as if God had 
granted just what I wished for you ; that spiritual joy which is His 
special gift. Why should the Children of Light tread the pilgrim 
way in heaviness ? " Light is sown for the righteous," and the crop 
begins to show itself even here. . . .' 

Later, in the same letter, when speaking of two young 
converts, she says of one of them : — 

' He is a Mullah's (Muhammadan religious teacher's) son, and has 
been brought up in a fine school for bigotry. He told me what a 
merit it is considered to kill infidels ; and that, when a child, he had 
intended to acquire this merit. " Do you mean that, if they could, 
the ]Muhammadans would think it right to kill all the Europeans 
and Native Christians ? " I asked. " Beshakh ! " (Without doubt !) 
replied the lad simply. Happily all Muhammadans are not Mullahs' 
sons ! ' 

'Batala, Oct. 31, 1879. — What shall I say for the splendid box, 
which reached me in perfect condition to-night ? I am almost be- 
wildered by the multitude of my possessions, and have hardly yet 
quite realised their amount. . . . What shall I begin with? — not 
the medicine, surely, — and yet quinine is such a treasure in India, 
so often required, asked for ! It is the medicine in a fever-land. 
And it is dreadfully expensive. I think that I once paid more than 
a guinea for a bottle, not a large one. But the cretonne — yes, that 
must have a principal place in my letter of thanks ; such a splendid 
supply ! . . . 



328 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

' I hope that my Laura will forgive me if I do not gobble up all 
the groceries myself! ! Of the chocolate and biscuit I shall probably 
largely partake ; they are such a comfort on winter mornings. . . .' 

''Nov. 13. — I think that this is the fourth Anniversary of my landing 
at Bombay, — my Indian birthday ! Oh, how much I have to be 
thankful for ! Surely goodness and mercy have followed me ! 

' Shall I give you a sketch of this my Indian birthday ? Up early 
— for I went to bed early. Ate two or three of my Laura's biscuits, 
and enjoyed them. Wrote till dear good R. brought the hot 
water for my bath. Then came breakfast No. 2 — tea and an ^%%. 
At 7 A.M., or thereabouts, the prayer-bell rings, and we all assemble 
in chapel. After chapel comes my delightful walk in the fresh morning 
air. A little more writing and reading, and — breakfast No. 3 with 
Mera Bhatija at 9. After that, off to the city on foot, my kahars 
carrying my dull behind me. 

' In the city I visited first a Muhammadan Zenana, then paid my 
weekly visit to our Brahmin convert, B.'s wife. . . . Then went to 
G. R.'s Zenana, where are four generations of the family. I can read 
the Gospel there, without let or hindrance. The sweet young Bibi 
looked as if she would like me to kiss her, — so I did ! Then to 
Sadiq's mother. After this I returned home, noted down where I 
had been, and then — did 7iot set to my lessons. I had something else 
to do. The cloth of our large screen was dirty ; so Mera Bhatija 
suggested our putting the pictures on a nice clean one, and having 
the first white-washed. So I got in my Ayah to help me, and we were 
stitching away like anything, when I was interrupted by a visitor. 

' No fashionable lady, — no insipid individual, such as you must 
talk to about weather, etc., but "a fine, thoughtful young Man, — who 
had been given a New Testament, which he is reading every day, 
and who sat down on the floor, and quietly, gravely, asked me 
to explain difficulties which he had met with in his reading, such as 
Daniel's " abomination of desolation,'^ the two women grinding, etc. 
. . . When he left, I returned to my beauty screen, but was inter- 
rupted by dear good Bibi M., who came to read her report. She 
also wanted quinine, — I am rich., my Laura knows. This brought 
me up to 3 o'clock dinner. 

' Poor N. N. is not well, so I had no afternoon lesson from 
a Munshi, but I did a little by myself. Then out into the bright, 
pleasant air, where I had a nice talk with dear I. and P. After 
I came in, Mera Bhatija and I had tea, — now I am writing to 
my Laura by lamplight ; and when I lay down my pen, I intend to 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 329 

do a little lessons. I have written out my vocabulary very large, 
so as not to injure my eyes. At 8^ I shall hear the bell ring for 
prayers ; and that almost closes the day. 

'Now is not this a very nice Indian birthday? I feel quite well 
and hearty now ; much stronger than when in the Salt range." 

' Nov. 22. — Cold having set in pretty sharply, I hav^e taken my 
" graceful Grey "' and faithful old Green out of their safe summer 
quarters, and have prepared them for immediate service, putting in 
lace to the sleeves, etc. The Episcopal Purple, my grand new dress, 
I reserve for grand occasions. ^^ly dress must be well fastened up, 
and decidedly more than clear the ground, when I go to Zenanas. 
See me, in fancy, climbing slowly up a dirty steep outside staircase. 
I have the indispensable umbrella in one hand, — though it be winter, 
the sun may be blazing, — my large books in the other. Unless I had 
a third hand, I could not hold up my dress ; and the steps may be of 
mud. Trains, elegant in the house, would never do in Zenanas. . . . 
I hope that yoa and dear Leila will be interested to hear that our one- 
legged B., in search of a wife, has succeeded in finding one. I 
think that their banns have been called twice ; and we shall probably 
see the happy pair next week.' 

TO MISS ' LEILA' HAMILTON. 

^ Nov. 29, 1879. 

' Yesterday, at last, the cricket-match between our School and the 
big Government School came off. We challenged the Government 
School long ago ; but they took no notice. Yesterday, however, a 
match was arranged between our Christian School and the Government 
one, which is about ten or twelve times as large. We were much the 
first on the ground, and were kept waiting for more than an hour. 
Most of our Eleven wore red-checked flannel vests, but R. the 
captain had a becoming grey one. ... At last the match commenced ; 
but it was hardly worth calling one. The Government lads could not 
hold their own in the least ! The whole Eleven only made 5 runs 
between them I 

' It was a very different thing when our boys took the batting. It 
does one good to hear the thud from R.'s bat when he sends the 
ball flying ever so far. He and S. made, I think, ^y runs, and 
were never bowled out. The rest of our boys had no turns at all ; 
for the sun went down, and still R. and S., tired, but unconquered, 
held their wickets. What is most pleasing is that our boys did not 
crow as they might have done, — their opponents were too utterly 



330 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

smashed. Had the contest been a close one, there would have been 
plenty of cheering. 

' I really hope that it may do good for it to be known through 
Batala that, in a manly game, the Hindus and Muhammadans " can- 
not hold a candle " to the Christian boys, who go preaching and 
singing hymns on Sunday ! Piety is all the more attractive from 
union with manliness. 

' Dec. 8. — Mera Bhatija intends to start a reading-room in the city 
in 1880, with Bibles in various languages, books, and some Native 
periodicals. The Illustrated — if you think of continuing it — will form 
one of the baits. Many lads now can read a little English ; and the 
pictures will form an attraction.' 



CHAPTER X 

A.D. 1880-1881 

LOYAL AND TRUE 

The series of extracts from letters, through the year 1879, 
given in the last chapter, will convey a fair general idea of 
how many succeeding years were passed. To quote with 
equal fulness from each year would mean — not one com- 
paratively small volume, but two large ones ; and, however 
interesting the subject-matter in itself, readers might be 
expected to grow weary. 

Year after year Charlotte Tucker lived on in the old 
palace, which had so strangely become her home, sur- 
rounded by the brown boys, whom she loved ; and by 
the spring of 1880 they had grown to forty in number. 
Year after year she wrote little booklets for the Natives of 
India. Year after year she persisted in her steady round 
of Zenana visits ; not, like the average district-visitor of 
England, going once a fortnight or once a week into her 
district, — which was the whole city of Batala, — but day 
after day giving hours to the work, never daunted because 
results seemed small, never apparently even tempted to 
throw up her arduous task in despair. She had to plough 
for the Master of the harvest ; and she was content to 
leave results with Him. 

It must have been a monotonous life, viewed from ordin- 
ary standpoints. Charlotte Tucker had had plenty of 
society in the past ; and though she might laugh at stiff 

331 



332 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

dinner-parties or dull morning calls, she had fully enjoyed 
intercourse with superior and cultivated minds. Some 
amount of such intercourse she had still in the Panjab ; 
but for months together, as time went on, she was thrown 
mainly upon her own resources, was left with absolutely 
no European companions. It is hardly within the bounds 
of possibility that she should not have suffered from the 
deprivation, cheerily as she received it. 

'Missionaries in work are usually rather "yoked two 
and two," ' she wrote to an Aunt, in the beginning of 1880. 
Then after a slight allusion to her successive ' yoke- 
fellows' at Batala, she adds brightly: 'And I look 
forward for the greater part of 1880 to going side by side 
with Babu Singha, the converted Hindu Head-master,' — 
with kind mention also of his wife and children. 

Friends might say what they would. Miss Tucker had 
advanced far beyond the stage when it was possible to 
convince her that she ' could not stay alone ' in Batala. 
Mr. Baring had decided to go to England for eight months ; 
and no one else was free to join her in Anarkalli ; but 
she refused to desert her post. In fact, she would not be 
' alone ' there now, as she would have been two years 
earlier. She loved and was loved by the little circle of 
Indian Christians in the place ; and the merry boys of the 
household were very dear to her. None the less, her posi- 
tion was a singularly solitary one. 

The frequent arrival of boxes from England afforded 
her never-failing delight ; partly on her own account, and 
yet more for the additional facilities afforded thereby for 
giving away. Pages each year might be filled with quota- 
tions on this subject alone. 

Also month by month fresh indications appeared of the 
reality of the work going on, — an inquirer here ; a convert 
there ; an abusive Muhammadan softened into gentleness ; 
an ignorant Heathen enlightened ; a bigot persuaded ; 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 333 

and now and again one coming forward, bravely resolute 
to undergo Baptism, willing to face the almost inevitable 
persecution following. All these things were of perpetual 
occurrence, and they lay very near to Charlotte Tucker's 
heart. 

On the 30th of January 1880 comes a pungent little 
sentence : — 

' What fearful people the Nihilists are ! When one reads of them, 
one seems to see Satan let loose ! There is some similarity between 
India and Russia. Perhaps some years hence a Nihilist crop may 
rise from tens of thousands of sharp conceited lads whom the Govern- 
ment so carefully educate witJioiit God ! They cannot possibly all get 
the prizes in life which they look for ; they wo?it dig, — so will natur- 
ally swell the dangerous classes. Such dear lads as we have here 
will be, we trust, as the salt in the mass. But they may have a 
difficult work before them.' 

Two letters in February to two nieces must not be 
passed over. In the first we have a glimpse of the dark as 
well as of the hopeful side : — 

''Feb. 2. — That most unhappy lad, , seems to be a thorough 

hypocrite. Only a day or so after professing himself a true penitent, 
and kneeling in seeming prayer at my side, he has, we hear, been 
actually preaching in the bazaar here against the Christians, . . . The 
subject is too sad to dwell upon ; but it is better that I should let you 
know at once, as I sent home so hopeful a letter, 

' Fancy poor E. Bibi actually paying me a visit here yesterday 
evening. The delicate creature longed to come. I told her to ask 
her husband's leave, and suggested that he had better come with her. 
She asked me to send my kahar in the morning, and she would send 
a message by him as to whether her " Sahib " consented or not. The 
answer ^\ as favourable ; so I made arrangements to have two dulis at 
her door after dark, for E., her mother, and her two little girls. 
I warned our boys to keep out of the chapel, into which I first intro- 
duced the Bibis. I went to the harmonium, and sang to it, " Jesus 
lives," and two or three verses of the Advent hymn, etc. While we 
were in the chapel the husband joined us, sat down, and quietly 
listened. He was very silent, which I think showed good manners. 

' We then all proceeded up our long staircase. ... I offered tea. 



334 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

but no one drank it ; the children ate some pudding, and I presented 
each of them with one of the dolls which your dear Mother sent out, 
which I have had dressed. ... I think the party were pleased. I 
wonder what thoughts were passing in the mind of that silent hus- 
band. He knows perfectly well what I visit his wife for ; for in 
Batala we do not hide our colours at all. I sometimes think that 
dear M.^ dashes right at the enemy almost too boldly ; but as she 
is a supposed descendant of Muhammad, I dare say that her daunt- 
less intrepidity has a good effect. I do not find the women made 
angry even by what must startle them. Of course one's manner 
must be gentle and conciliating, even when meeting the question, 
" Do you think that Muhammad told lies ? " with a simple straight- 
forward, " Yes." 

' I think that not a few Batala women do now believe that our 
religion is the right one, and that our Blessed Lord is the Saviour of 
sinners. But this belief may exist for years before there is any 
desire for Baptism.' 

''Feb. 6. — One visit which I paid in the former place (Amritsar) 
would have warmed your heart. In a cottage in the Mission com- 
pound, occupied by one of the Bible-women, I found three who 
doubtless will inherit the blessing promised to all who are persecuted 
for righteousness' sake. There was dear faithful Begum J., and 
her daughter, K. (now a Bible-woman). These are the two who, 
as you may remember, were threatened with a razor by Begum 
J.'s husband, and fled, and were afterwards baptized. They had 
come to see another brave Convert, who had been baptized on the 
previous day. 

' A fierce crowd had attacked her, tore the jewels from her ears, 
beat her on the head, threatened to cut off her nose ! How she 
escaped she cannot tell ; she was bewildered. Perhaps some unseen 
Angel took her by the hand. She reached somehow a duli, which was 
in waiting for her, and was baptized the same day.' 

The school was so growing, that by March 1880 a 
good many of the boys had to sleep on the floor which 
formerly had been reserved entirely for Europeans. This 
Miss Tucker did not mind. 

Before the end of March she had to bid good-bye to her 
dharm-nephew, who was starting for England. It must 

1 Native Bible-woman. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 335 

have given her a strange feeling, thus to see one and 
another leave for the dear old country, which she so loved, 
and yet which she had resolved never of her own free will 
to see again. 

The previous day a feast was given in ]\Ir. Baring's 
honour, the boys ' subscribing to buy the little dainties ' ; 
and ' speeches of love and gratitude ' being made. Then, 
in the early morning, long before dawn. Miss Tucker felt 
her way down the dark staircase, to see the traveller off. 
' The babies,' as she called some of the tinier brown boys, 
were there also ; one small orphan looking ' sad and 
thoughtful ' over the farewell. Bigger boys also came 
down, and they waited in the Chapel till the Principal 
appeared. Shakings of hands were followed by cheers, as 
Mr. Baring drove away in the dak-gari, — ' probably with 
mingled feelings,' writes Miss Tucker. One is disposed to 
wonder what her feelings were, as she turned back into the 
palace ; alone among her companions ; the only Euro- 
pean in that Eastern city ! Yet no signs of heart-quailing 
can be seen in the letter to her sister, written on the same 
day. 

In this spring of 1880 came another event of import- 
ance, — the ' Disruption ' of the older Zenana Society, 
under which Charlotte Tucker had worked as an Honorary 
Member. 

There is no necessity to enter fully here into the causes 
which led to that disruption. To some of us it may seem 
to have been, sooner or later, almost inevitable. Until 
that date the attempt had been made to work on what are 
sometimes called ' un-denominational lines,' — which meant 
that the Missionaries might be either Churchwomen or 
Dissenters, each teaching according to her own convictions. 
A difficult programme to carry out, one is disposed to 
imagine ! After a while friction arose in the Governing 
Body at home. Since by far the larger majority of 



336 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

workers in the field belonged to the Anglican Church, it 
was rightly considered that the Governing Body ought to 
consist of an equally large majority of Church people ; and 
on this point the split took place. The Society broke 
into two parts. The one part remained more or less Dis- 
senting ; the other part became distinctly and exclusively 
Church of England. Each Missionary had to make her 
own decision as to which she would join ; and Charlotte 
Tucker at least had no hesitation in the matter. On the 
1 2th of May she wrote : — 

' Here I am at home again, after my strange little visit to Amritsar ; 
short, but by no means unimportant. All our five ladies have crossed 
the Rubicon ; they have sent in their resignations, with the usual six 
months' notice. It remains to be seen whether the new " Church of 
England Zenana Society " will or can take them all on ! We know 
not what the state of their funds will be, as they begin on nothing. 
Our ladies, with Mr. Weitbrecht the Secretary, seemed to have no 
hesitation as to what course to pursue, — that of resignation. . . . lam 
very desirous to know what dear Margaret Elmslie and Emily will 
do. . . . How the complicated machinery of the Mission will work 
during the strange interregnum I know not. . . . One expects a sort of 
little — not exactly chaos, but — struggling along in a fog, for the next 
six months ; and then we shall probably see our way clearly.' 

On the following day she sent in her own resignation. 
Little more appears about the subject in later letters. As 
an Honorary Worker her own position was not affected, 
nor was her income placed in jeopardy ; and soon the new 
' Church of England Zenana Society,' being warmly taken 
up, was in full working order. Amongst those who joined 
it were her friends, Mrs. Elmslie and Miss Wauton. 

At this time she was becoming very anxious for the re- 
turn of Mrs. Elmslie, who had been detained in England far 
longer than was at first intended, by family claims. Some- 
times a fear was expressed that Mrs. Elmslie might never 
return ; and no one else could fill her place. Charlotte 
Tucker did not dream of the happy consummation ahead. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 337 

Two or three references to her earlier days occur in June 
and July, as if some cause had sent her thoughts backward. 

''June 4, 1880. — I think, love, that one gets into a kind of social 
fetters. When we were young we had the worry of a footboy at our 
heels, — it was thought suitable for our position. (Do you remember 
dear Fanny^s lovely definition of that word ?) When I was in 

Edinburgh, dear was surprised, and I think a little shocked, at 

"my father's daughter"' going in omnibuses. As if it were any 
disgrace to my father's middle-aged daughter to do what her precious 
princely Sire had done a hundred times ! O Laura, when one throws 
aside these trammels of social position, one feels like a horse taken 
out of harness, and set free in a nice green meadow. Our honoured 
Father ! what true dignity was his, — but how he shook off the 
trammels ! 

'To be mean and miserly is quite another thing. That dishonours 
our profession. One should be ready to entertain hospitably, and tc 
pay for work done handsomely ; there is a free hand and a generous 
spirit quite consistent with economy.' 

''July 13. — Yes, love, we did intensely enjoy those concerts in H. 
Square. I want you to enjoy more concerts. It is curious how useful 
I have found my little music in the evening of my days. I 
sometimes think of dear Mother's words to me, — " Do not give up 
your music." ' 

In July, when Miss Tucker was congratulating herself 
that half the time of Mr. Baring's absence was over, a 
letter arrived speaking of lengthened furlough. She was 
much distressed, fearing harm to the school, and for a 
while was assailed by fears that perhaps he and also Mrs. 
Elmslie might never return. Happily these fears were 
groundless ; but plans were afloat for some temporary 
arrangement while the Principal remained away. Miss 
Wauton too was at this time taking her well-earned 
furlough in England, and workers were sorely needed in 
the Panjab ; while new untrained IMissionaries on first 
going out could do little. ' We want Margaret,' was the 
burden of her cry ; to which was now added, ' We want 
Mr. Baring.' 
Y 



338 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

For herself she had no thought of a furlough. Friends 
thought of it for her ; and she put the idea resolutely 
aside. Writing to Mrs. Hamilton on September 6, she 
said : ' And now for a more important subject, broached 
in your sweet letter. I do not feel that it would be either 
wise as regards myself, or right as regards my work, to go 
home next year. The great fatigue of two journeys, the 
excitement of meeting loved ones, and the wrench of 
parting again, — I doubt how my health could stand it. 
As regards the work — I need not expatiate. It would look 
as if I thought much of the little that I could do ; but 
little is better than nothing. It seems to me that one of 
the most useful things about me is that — hitherto — I have 
stuck pretty close to my Station. If I were a Native 
Christian, I think that I should be tempted to hate the 
very word " going home," and to regard Europe as a trap 
for my Missionaries. Let them, if possible, have a restful 
feeling in regard to at least one old woman, whom they 
are ready to love.' 

And a few days later to Miss Hamilton, on September 
14:— 

' Your sweet Mother threw out a suggestion about my going home 
next year; but it seems to me, love, that if I did so, — unless 
circumstances change, — I should deserve to be shot as a deserter. 
Even if I were to become blind or paralytic, I believe that it would 
be well to stick to Batala. I am the only apology for a European 
Missionary here ; and, curiously enough, my very age is an advantage. 
What might be a great hindrance elsewhere is rather a help here.' 

In a letter of September 14 occurs a passage about 
apparent success or non-success in work. She had perhaps 
comforted herself from time to time with such thoughts 
as follow. 

Speaking about a certain American religious book, 
which had been lent to her by one who greatly admired it, 
and about Mr. Bateman's opinion of the same volume, 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 339 

she observes : ' What Rowland most objected to was 
the American affirming that if you take certain means 
to effect conversions, the result is as sure as harvest 
following breaking up the ground. As Rowland says, we 
cannot even break up the ground without God. . . . Are 

we to conclude that and are truer workers than 

dear spending his strength in breaking stones at K., 

while the sheaves almost drop into the reapers' arms at 
D. ? Did our Blessed Lord Himself, Who was always 
sowing golden seed, reap a very large harvest during His 
Ministry? St. Peter's first sermon drew in a far greater 
number than all the disciples of the Blessed Lord before 
His Resurrection put together.' 

It was evident that, although she must have felt her 
lonely position, she was gradually becoming used to it ; 
even so far as not at all to wish for a strange young lady 
as a companion. Mrs. Hamilton had made strong 
representations to the Society at home of the need of a 
helper at Batala ; and the letters given next seem to have 
been written partly in consequence of this. 

As early as the spring of 1880 Miss Tucker could say : 
' I used to think it rather tiresome when business took both 
my English companions for a few days away ; now I am 
quite serene if I do not see a white face for months.' And 
in November of the same year : ' As to earthly blessings, 
they abound ; the Natives are my real friends. The Lord 
gives abundant grace, and cheers me with His Presence ; 
and I have such joy in the companionship of my Bible, 
that I do not miss the society I should otherwise value. 
Do not send a helper to me, when many other parts of 
India need it so much more.' 

Again, on September 27 : — 

' It is very loving in you to be so anxious for me to have a lady- 
companion. But, unless a Missionary's wife, one might far from add 
either to my comfort or usefulness. To put aside the possibility of 



340 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

her being eloquent, — a late sitter-up, — of a melancholy or nervous 
temperament, or often ailing, — I really have no spare space for a 
lady companion. She must share my bath-room, if not my bedroom ; 
and in India this would be very uncomfortable. 

' But why, you may say, should there be more room for a married 
pair than for one maiden lady? The answer is simple enough. If 
?i gentleman were here, the large family of the Singhas would give 
up their rooms and move to the Banyans. We must have a gentleman 
Superintendent.' 

Later in the same letter comes a reference to one of the 
Heroes of her enthusiastic girlhood. Lady Outram and 
her gallant husband had been intimate friends of the 
Tucker family ; and many a loving message in these later 
years was sent home by Charlotte Tucker to the former. 

' I have been reading much of the noble Outram's Memoir to-day. 
As far as I have gone, I think that the Biographer has done his work 
well. The Outram of the book is just the Outram who was the 
admiration of our girlhood, — generous, chivalrous, noble ! One feels 
how much pain that fine spirit would have been saved, had he 
realised how little it really matters whether good service be appreciated 
or not by man, if the great Leader accept it, — if all be done as to 
Him Who never overlooks or misunderstands ! To our own Master 
we stand or fall ; let earthly superiors say what they will.' 

' Oct. 1 6. — Dear, excellent thinks that my not having a " Revival " 

in Batala is because I do not study his favourite author. You can 
hardly have a Revival unless there has been some life before. . . . 
Our work is more like clearing in backwoods, — there are huge trees 
and boulders cumbering the ground ; not just weeds overspreading a 
garden that once was a little cultivated. Then here women cannot 
read, and do not choose to learn. ... I like Miss Havergal's Kept 
for the Master's Use so much. It is beautiful. But I do not feel 
with her that it is possible on Earth to have our will exactly one 
with God's. Even the Blessed Saviour made a distinction between 
" My Will " and " Thy Will." Dear C. T. T., for instance, submitted 
sweetly to her heavy trials ; but it could not be her will., it was her 
cross., to lose all her nearest and dearest, and see her father ill for so 
many years.' 

Dec. 15, 1880. — Dear Mr. Clark's return has caused so much joy. 
The Native Christians have had a loving address to him printed in 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 341 

letters of gold. I fancy that a general feeling is, " Now there is a 
hand on the reins." . . . Mr. Clark is an experienced and skilful 
driver. True, he is very weak, but he brings brai?is, and a power of 
organisation. If he were a prisoner to his room he might be very 
valuable still. . . . He was sadly missed. . . . ' 

^ Dec. 17. — Please, love, make no plans for bringing ladies to 
Batala. It is so awkward to me to have to explain to nice enthusiastic 
ladies that they cannot come. This is not a place except for elderly 
or married ladies. If Mera Bhatija would bring out a nice wife, it 
would give much pleasure ; at present plans and propositions only — 
I must not say burden me — but they do not help me. I do very well 
as I am ; I have had, through God's goodness, a happy year ; and if 
I were to be ill, I would rather be doctored by our Sikh, and nursed 
by our Natives. As for visitors, we have hardly any except in the 
cooler weather ; and a little packing then does no harm.' 

Of the following extracts to Mrs. E , only two of 

which are fully dated, all probably belong to about this 
period : — 

''July 23. — I saw to-day a sight which perhaps never met your eyes 
in India, and which I never wish to see again ; though it was not 
without something of melancholy beauty. On Sunday towards dusk 
I was with some of the boys, and they called out " Locusts ! " I 
looked up into the sky, and saw what my old eyes would have 
considered harmless clouds high above me ; but the young eyes must 
have detected the motion of countless wings. To-day there was no 
possibility of mistake. I was in a Zenana, in the full light of day, 
gazing up at myriads and myriads, — dark against white clouds, light 
against the blue sky, — passing over Batala. They looked to me like 
God's terrible army ; so strong ; so vigorous ; not one amongst the 
millions appeared to be weary ; not one did I see drop down as if 
faint from long flight. They flew as if they had a purpose ; our fair 
green fields did not appear to tempt the destroyers, — only I saw a 
comparatively small number in one, — but they were clearly intent on 
going somewhere else. Alas for the land where they alight ! A 
Native told me that they would probably come back again. How 
helpless is man against such a foe ! We can only ask for mercy, as 
Pharaoh did.' 

' Kangra, ^z<r^. 21. — I paid a visit to Kangra fort yesterday; a 
grand picturesque place, holding a commanding position. The officer 



342 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

in command had prepared tea and cake for me, and the dear kind 
soldiers lemonade, so I was treated with much hospitality. They do 
not often see a lady up there. I have often thought of your dear 
M.'s words about the soldiers, and her wondering at my feeling 
shy with them. They are some of the pleasantest people in the world 
to have to do with. . . . While I was taking tea with the Commander, 
the soldiers were concocting a letter to say that they had collected 
ten rupees to pay my expenses, and hoped that I would soon come 
again. I certainly do not want their money, poor dear fellows ; and 
I mean to go again on Monday. Soldiers' money seems to jump out 
of their purses of its own accord. In this the Natives are far behind 
them. Four soldiers — I think in Afghanistan — are uniting to support 
a little girl at the Amritsar Orphanage. They are charmed with the 
idea. I had nothing to do with it, except giving the Superintendent's 
address. I have over and over again received help for the Mission 
from English soldiers, and I never ask them for it. Fine fellows ! — 
and to think what they have to suffer I ' 

' Batala, Oct. I, 1880. — I was amused to-day at what my kahar 
called out. I am quite accustomed, as I am borne along in my little 
duli, to hear my bearers shout, " Posh ! posh ! " (Hide ! hide !), which 
is absurd enough, as if all must flee from my approach. But to-day 
was too absurd. I was, according to custom, walking to the city, 
with my kahars carrying my duli behind. There was a rider in front, 
mounted on a horse inclined to back. My attentive kahar, careful 
that the animal should not hurt me, cried out, " Save the horse ! " — 
as if, instead of its kicking 7?ic, the danger was that a mild old lady 
approaching on foot should demolish the unfortunate animal ! ' 

' Batala, yc?;z. 31, 1881. — As I was engaged yesterday with a 
party of our boys, I was interrupted by hearing that my poor dear 
Ayah had been stung — bitten, as the people incorrectly say — by a 
scorpion. I thought what could be done. I had happily by me 
some ipecacuanha, sent to me in 1879 by my dear kind sister, Laura, 
in case of such an emergency, and also pain-killer, which she 
forwarded to me more recently. Armed with these and a bit of tape, 
probably her present also, I hastened to the compound, and found 
my Ayah crying with the violent pain. She had already sucked 
the poor finger. I tied my tape round it, anointed it with a mixture 
of ipecacuanha and pain-killer, and gave some of the latter also 
internally. My Hannah appeared to derive some relief, but had 
much pain in the night. To-day, however, she is much better. I have 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 343 

never seen either scorpion or centipede in Batala ; but then my long 
staircase would present a formidable difficulty to such reptiles.' 

About this time, hearing the boys one day singing The 
Vicar of Bray, Miss Tucker wrote fresh words to suit the 
old tune, and taught them to her ' young companions. 
The second verse was curiously characteristic of herself. 

' The rushing torrent bears along 

The straw on its surface thrown, Sir ; 
But the rock in its midst stands firm and strong, 

Although it stand alone. Sir. 
Oh, may our steadfast courage so 
In danger's hour be seen. Sir ; 
And let the tide flow. 
And let the world go. 
We 'II be true to our Faith and our Queen, Sir I ' 



CHAPTER XI 

A.D. 1881-1882 

CLOUDS AFTER SUNSHINE 

The greater part of 188 1 passed much as 1880 had passed ; 
Miss Tucker continuing to live in the old palace, busy and 
happy among her Indian friends, and cheery with the 
boys, having no second European within easy reach. But 
in the spring came an unexpected joy. News arrived that 
her dharm-nephew, the Rev. Francis Baring, was engaged 
to be married to her dearly-loved friend, Mrs. Elmslie, 
and that the two might be expected in Batala before the 
close of the year. Could Charlotte Tucker have had the 
shaping of events for herself, for her friends, and for Batala, 
one can well imagine that this is precisely what she would 
have chosen to take place. In the opening of the year, 
however, she had no idea of what would soon come. 

^Jan. 5, 1 88 1. — In looking over my records of 1880, I find that in 
the nine, or rather eight months, of Mera Bhatija's absence, — as I 
was away myself for a month, — I have given nearer seven hundred 
than six hundred teas to boys or young men. The expense is trifling ; 
it seems as if a couple of pounds of tea lasted for ever ; but all these 
little marks in my book represent a good deal of innocent enjoyment, 
not, I hope, unmixed with profit. All the boys, save two lately come, 
have again and again sat at my table, chatted or played with me.' 

''Jan. II. — I was with a poor weeping Bibi yesterday. Her heart 
was very heavy. She told me that her husband had forsaken her ; 
he has gone away and married another. When I asked her in the 
presence of her companions who Christ is, she replied, " God's 

844 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 345 

Son." "Why did He come from Heaven ?" " To save us.'' I wish 
that this forlorn one would throw herself on His love, and come into 
the Church. I read God's Word to another Bibi to-day, who is in 
the same position, — desolate, forsaken, ready to listen. A third case 
is somewhat similar. You would think it comparatively easy for 
these forsaken ones to come out ; but even to them the difficulties 
are immense. Where the husband is tolerably kind, the difficulty is 
next to insuperable ; for marriage by Muhammadan law, — and I 
have lately been shocked to hear, by English law also, — is dissolved 
by Baptism. This is dead against St. Paul's directions as to the duty 
of believing wives towards unbelieving husbands ; and you can 
imagine how it complicates the difficulties of Zenana visitors I . . . 
If one would express in one word the Missionary's worst perplexity, 
I think that I would put down the word ''marriage.'" 

\Feb. 5, 1 88 1. — I went to a wedding yesterday, one of the silly 
child-marrying affairs, with which the Hindus delight to ruin them- 
selves and run into debt. Poor quite agreed with me that it is 

very foolish ; but he and his relatives cannot resist dastur,^ so both 
my kahars receive next to nothing for five months, to work out their 
debt to me. I had to do rather a difficult thing for an old lady, in 
order to get to the wedding-party, climb a real ladder — not very 
good — of eight rounds. I am not as agile as I used to be, and had to 
go up and up, and then down and down, very slowly and cautiously. 
To parody Byron's lines — 

' ' ' The feat performed I — boots it well or ill, 

Since not to tumble down is something still. . . ." ' 

''May 10. 
' I thought that my birthday would pass over very quietly and 
silently, as it fell on a Sunday. . . . But my Native friends would 
not let me go without my birthday tamasha, merely delaying it till the 
Monday. I could not regret it, for certainly it was one of the most 
gratifying evenings that I have ever enjoyed. We had our feast, 
given by the Singhas, on the top of their house, with the glorious 
dark-blue sky as our ceiling, and our lamp the beautiful moon. . . . 
I was presented with a Batala scarf or chaddah, for which my dear 
boys had subscribed. A wonderful chaddah it is, with borders of 
red and gold. I thought by moonlight that the colour was grey. . . . 
In the morning I saw the exceedingly gay green^ of which I enclose 
a thread. ... It is precious to me, as a token of affection. 

1 Custom. 



346 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

'The Native Christians not unfrequently subscribe to give a 
parting gift to a Missionary whom they love, when starting for 
England ; but I suppose they thought that, in my case, if they waited 
for that they would never give me anything, and that it was no harm 
to present me with something for not going away ! Mr. K. was 
rather astonished at the wild bhajans, which he declares are all on 
one note — but that is a mistake — but he says that they helped to cure 
his earache ; a very curious and novel effect, which I never knew 
before to belong to a bhajan ! . . . 

' I think, love, that these little particulars will amuse you, I write 
playfully, but the real undermost feeling in my heart is that of humble 
gratitude to Him from Whom all blessings flow, — the love of true and 
God-fearing hearts being one of the most precious of those blessings.' 

TO MRS. J. BOSWELL. 

'March 17, 1881. 
' The Hindus appear to be particularly silly at this time of the 
year. They throw about coloured water, so as to make almost all 
the white dresses of their companions look dirty and disreputable. 

My poor came particularly badly off, for he not only had three 

times his raiment dirtied, but his hand rather severely hurt. Said I 
to him, "Do you think such a religion is from God?" "It is 
devilish," he frankly assented, "A devilish religion; a devilish 
deed," " Why do you not leave it ? " The poor fellow was silent. 
It is not faith in his nonsensical religion that holds him back, but 
love of social ties and surroundings.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

' April 1 3. 
' Our good pastor Sadiq and 1 had a long talk together to-day. 
We two almost, as it were, form a little party by ourselves ; we 
are regular old-fashioned Panjabis, something like Saxons after 
the Norman Conquest, Sadiq highly approves of this school, 
because we don't Anglicise the boys. , . . But the Anglicising tide 
runs too fast for Sadiq and me. We get spoilt by Batala, where 
there are no Europeans or Eurasians, . , , This is a grand transition 
time in India ; and the Conservatism, which I drank in at old No. 3, 
remains in me like an instinct now. I would keep everything un- 
changed that is not wrong or foolish — and there is such a fearful 
amount of things that are wrong and foolish, that one might think 
that to get rid of them would give all occupation sufficient. But I 
know that I am old-fashioned, and live too much in one groove to be 
able to judge correctly.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 347 

TO MRS. E 

''July 29, 1 88 1. 

'You have perhaps heard that I am to have a charming lady to be 
with me ; for my adopted nephew, the Rev. F. H. Baring, is bringing 
out a lovely bride, one whom I know well, and whom I have been 
accustomed to call my Queen-Lily, because she is so tall and fair. 
I expect her to do Mission-work much better than I can ; and will 
not our boys love her ! They seem to have made up their minds 
that she is to be their mother ; so she will have a fine large family 
to look after, thirty-seven boys, or more ; some of them really not 
boys, but men. Rowland Bateman is to perform, or rather, I believe, 
has performed, the marriage service for his friend. We expect to 
have grand rejoicings here on the arrival of the happy pair. It was 
a feast to see the way in which the news of their Principal's engage- 
ment was received by his boys. . . . There was such clapping and 
delight, that you might have thought all the boys were going to be 
married themselves ! ' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'Sept. 4, 1 88 1. 

' I visited to-day a poor mother who has lost a fine little boy. 
I seated myself amongst the mourners, and talked with the mother. 
What she said gave me a gleam of hope regarding the child of 
ten. He had till lately attended our Mission School, so of course 
had received religious instruction. He had the opportunity also 
of learning something in the Zenana, and knew Christian Hymns. 
His illness was very short ; and what he said no one could 
understand ; but, as his mother assured me more than once, "■ he 
smiled twice." This seems but a sunbeam to build upon ; yet as I 
have never known or heard of Muhammadans or Heathen smiling 
when about to die, — the death-smile seems exclusively Christian ! — 
I cannot but hope that the dear little fellow had looked to the 
Saviour. I told the mother of the hope in my mind, and spoke to 
the weeping little brother also.' 

' Oct. 3. — It is a real pleasure to look forward to, that of welcoming 
the Barings back, and placing the reins in younger and stronger 
hands than my own. Not a giving up of work, please God, but a 
lightening of responsibility. How often we say or think, "Oh, we'll 
leave that till the Padri Sahib comes." He is to do the thinking and 
ordering and arrangement in his little bishopric. As for sweet, 
lovely Margaret, I expect to see her gentle influence bearing on all 



348 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

sides. We are not likely to disagree, unless it be on the subject of 
who is to sing first, and who is to take the coveted second part.' 

'Peshawar, Oct. i8, 1881. — A large military station like Pesha- 
war is rather a contrast to Batala. But, poor India ! Where one 
sees less of the enemy attacking in one direction, we find him ad- 
vancing in another. Over the Hindus and Muhammadans he throws 
the chains of Superstition, Idolatry, Self-righteousness, — he makes 
them choose a murderer instead of the Prince of Life. For the 
Europeans he has coldness, deadness, infidelity ! I noticed at 
Church that but 07te man stayed to Holy Communion.' 

' Nov. 7. — I am so much stronger after my visit to Peshawar, — quite 
a different being. It must be a comfort to Babu Singha, who thought 
me ageing with wonderful rapidity. But at Peshawar I took a back- 
ward spring. I was more than six hours to-day on an expedition to 
the village of Urduhi, going in my duli ; and I was very little tired, 
— quite ready for Henry viii. and his six wives in the afternoon, and 
for Agamemnon and Achilles in the evening. It is amusing to go 
back to the old stories one read in one's childhood.' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'Nov. 22, 1 88 1. 

' The visit of the two Bishops,^ Mr. Clark, and the Chaplain, Mr. 
Deedes, went off beautifully. Everybody seemed pleased with 
Batala ; and the Bishop of Calcutta wrote such handsome things in 
the school-book, that I am sure dear Babu Singha was gratified. 
The Bishop of Calcutta is a striking-looking man ; tall, with a simple, 
unaffected dignity. . . . He gives one the impression of both physical 
and intellectual strength, combined with true piety. As the vigorous, 
energetic practical man, he forms an interesting contrast to the 
fragile-looking, saintly Bishop of Lahore. Then Mr. Clark has a 
calm charm of his own, — described by a lad as "looking like an 
angel, with his beautiful white beard." . . . 

' Of course we had a feast. Then followed brief recitations from 
Shakespeare, and choruses. To-day the school was examined in 
Scripture, and pleased the Bishop. We had Divine Service, and an 
interesting, forcible sermon, well translated, sentence by sentence, by 
Mr. Clark. The Bishop of Calcutta afterwards went over the place, 
examining the boys' beds, etc, struck at Native lads having such 
clean sheets, and at hearing that they were changed weekly. He 
kindly visited our poor sick M., who is much better, thank God, 

^ The Bishop of Calcutta and the Bishop of Lahore. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 349 

though still — after six weeks — confined to bed. I gave my guests 
plenty to eat ; and my bottle of wine held out bravely, two of the 
gentlemen preferring tea, while the wine-drinkers were very moderate. 
I had to manage a little to make my furniture suffice for four guests. 
There was a little borrowing, but not much. I put two of your sweet 
mother's lovely tidies, quite fresh, over chair and sofa, to look elegant. 
I wore the pretty cap, trimmed with blue, and my graceful grey dress, 
both gifts from No. 31.^ 

' The Bishop of Calcutta, before leaving, kindly put into my hand 
a note for 100 rupees. I asked him to what purpose I should apply 
it ; he replied to whatever purpose I liked ; so I at once decided on 
our City Mission School, our Batala Plough^ which has almost come 
to the end of its means, and must on no account be suffered to drop 
through. I was very glad of the seasonable supply. 

' Now all the boys' thoughts are turned to the reception of the 
dear Barings. The Natives take the whole affair into their own 
hands, I merely helping by paying for the refreshments. I see a 
wooden arch in course of erection, and hundreds — perhaps a thou- 
sand — little earthen lamps cumbering our hall. Perhaps the Bishops 
wondered what all those funny little concerns could be for. There 
are to be fireworks too ; but I have nothing to do with either illumi- 
nation or fireworks.' 

Before the end of November Mr. and Mrs. Baring 
arrived, to be received lovingly by Charlotte Tucker, and 
enthusiastically, not by the boys alone, or even by the 
Christians alone, but by many of the people of Batala. 
On the 9th of December a letter went from Mrs. Baring 
home : — 

' My dear Mrs. Hamilton, — I have but few uninterrupted 
minutes, but long to send you at least a few lines, to assure you that 
your beloved sister is well. She gave us a most delightful welcome; and 
a very great joy it is to be with her. I thought her looking extremely 
white and thin, although not lacking in her wonted energy, when we 
first came. Now I think she is looking a little better ; and we shall 
tenderly watch over her, and cherish her, so far as she will allow us ; 
but I assure you it is very hard work to persuade her to reduce her 
work, or to increase her nourishment. I see that my best plan is 
quietly to put things in her way that may be strengthening, but not 

1 Mrs. Hamilton's house. 



350 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

to trouble her by pressing; and to ensure soups, puddings, etc., 
being all thoroughly nutritious, so that the amount she does take 
may all do her real good. And as to the work, I hope she will 
gradually let me have part of it, leaving herself more time for 
writing. 

'You will be pleased to see how the people love and honour her. 
The tahsildar^ came one day to see us ; and reverently bowing his 
head before her, he asked her to lay her hand upon it, and pray for 
him, — which she did, most earnestly asking that Heavenly light might 
be poured into his soul. I think she is very wise in her dealings with 
the Christians, but is apt to over-estimate some of the heathen, — and 
to cast precious "pearls before swine," at too great an expense of her 
own time and strength. However, I am perhaps mistaken about 
this. We must pray that all her loving efforts may be abundantly 
blessed, and that she may be allowed the joy of seeing some fruit of 
her city labours. Among the boys she has been muck blessed. I 
hope to write often, if you will kindly excuse my notes being hurried. 
Much love to dear Leila. Kindest remembrances to Mr. Hamilton. — 
Ever yours lovingly, Margaret.' 

One little touch of depression had appeared a few weeks 
earlier, in a letter written before the visit of the Bishops, 
wherein Miss Tucker alluded to a slight sketch or account 
of herself which had been inserted in a Missionary peri- 
odical. The tone of sadness was probably due to those 
long city labours, spoken of by Mrs. Baring, so few results 
of which could then be detected. 

^ Nov. i6, 1881. — . . . Last Sunday was my sixth India7i birthday ; 
it fell on a Sunday, like my natural one. In 18S0 I felt joyous on my 
Indian birthday. Somehow or other I had quite a different sensation 
this year. I felt so dissatisfied with myself, — my work seemed all 

sowing, and never reaping ! Oh, what a false impression the 

gives of me ! And Miss never published my refutation. . . . 

Do you remember the noble lines in "Camoens" — 

' " Praise misapplied 

Is to the generous mind not callous grown 

A burning cautery." 

' I do not mean that I am burnt ; but I feel like one breathing an 
unwholesome, sickly odour. Here is the Bishop of Calcutta wanting 

1 Native official. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 351 

to see me ; he has probably been reading some painted description, 
and imagines me a highly capable and successful Missionary. O 

dear ! O dear ! If Miss had only published my honest, blunt 

letter ! ' 

For once in this little fit of down-heartedness, she seems 
to have somewhat lost her usual balanced view of the 
comparative unimportance of seemingly successful ' results.' 
But if in all these years of toil Charlotte Tucker had 
never known depression, she would have been more than 
human. Even her brave and dauntless spirit had 
occasionally to pass under a cloud ; more often, as years 
passed on, and strength decayed. This timie it had been 
a very slight one ; and the coming of her two dear friends 
had brought bright sunshine into her life. 

Early in the next year another letter went to Mrs. 
Hamilton from the bride : — 

'■Jan. 21, 1882. 

'Dearest Mrs. Hamilton, — I often want to have a chat with 
you, — so often ! But now how impossible it is to go to the bright, 
home-like drawing-room at Leinster Square to have it ! I must 
therefore just be content with pen and ink. 

' Your own beloved one writes so regularly that you hear all Batala 
news ; but you do not, I fancy, hear much about her own dear self. 
She had certainly overdone before we came, and naturally, after six 
years of such continuous effort, in a climate such as this, she looks 
aged ; but she is really just as full of brightness as ever, and her 
spirit is unflagging in its loving efforts for all around her. It is 
indeed a privilege and ioy to have her here. Just at present she has 
a troublesome cold, caught by going out in the foggy morning of 
last week ; but I trust it will soon yield to remedies. She is cosily 
resting in an arm-chair by the log-fire beside me, and has allowed 
me to take a little care of her to-day. The Native doctor comes 
every day to see the boys ; so if anything is wrong with her we have 
him upstairs, to have a chat and prescribe. He is a very superior 
man, and she has great confidence in him. 

' She will have told you of the possibility of a Mrs. R. coming 
out to join us as a Medical Bible-woman. . . . Not only would she 
be very useful in the Zenanas, and in taking care of the little boys, 



35^ THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

but also in taking a look-out for our dear one when we are absent. 
. . . My husband thinks of adding a room and dressing-room to The 
Aloes for Mrs. R. if she comes ; so she would be quite near us. 
. . . Dinner is announced, so I must say farewell. The dear Auntie 
kindly consents to let a little low table be drawn close to the fire in 
the drawing-room for her to-day, as the dining-room is very cold in 
this weather. . . .' 

C. ^l. T. TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

^ Jan. 23, 1882. 

' It was rather naughty in ]\Iargaret to tell you that I had a cold ; 
1 did not know that she would be such a blab ! However, she is not 
an easy person to be angry with. I think that dear kind Doctor, 
B. D., is quite pleased with me. He thinks that I have done 
more in the way of getting well in twenty-four hours than I should 
have done in a week had I been a Zenana lady, because I should not 
have obeyed him. The Natives are so very lazy about anything in 
illness which involves any trouble. . . . Dear Margaret and Francis 
take great care of me, — coddle me I ' (Then comes a pleased 
reference to the thought of the Medical Bible-woman for the next 
cold weather.) 'It was such an utterly unexpected thing. ... It is 
so nice to meet with a servant of a true Missionary spirit. Of course 
she will need taking care of herself I told Francis that he should 
calculate on her pankah costing ;^5 a year. I do not need as much 
fanning as some Europeans do ; but I count my pankah as that 
expense ; and it would be folly to grudge it. You see, in the Panjab, 
if you wish to sleep at night, you must have a pankah in the hot 
weather even at midnight, unless you can sleep in the open air, — 
which I find impracticable in a boys' school ; and I do not see how 
good Mrs. R. could manage it. . . . 

'Aunt L.'s book is very amusing, even to a grown-up person; 
there is such vigour in the attitudes, and the colouring is just suited 
for Orientals. I think of taking it with me when I pay my long- 
promised visit to Clarkabad. I hope to invade the heathen there 
and not confine myself — please God — to the Christian village. 1 feel 
a special interest in Clarkabad, on account of my dear Rowland. The 
lovely little gem of a church, partly the work of his own hands, gives 
a charm to the spot. Now the presence of the excellent Beutels will 
add to it. 

' I expect to find some of the flock very troublesome folk ; but that 
is what Missionaries must expect. These big brown families have 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 353 

their prodigals and sloths and backsliders. What is to be expected 
from those who have had so little light for generation after genera- 
tion ? We should hail every symptom of improvement. The 
European idea of a Missionary standing under a tree, preaching, — 
and numbers listening, understanding, and welcoming the Word of 
Life, — is often a fancy picture, or gives a most imperfect view of the 
truth. The seeking to w/?7 souls is but one part of the real work. 
' Only think what a regular workshop of thought has been going 

on in the heads of such men as and . A. is weak ; how is 

he to be shielded from temptation ? jS'. is a stupid, lazy fellow ; how 
is he to be made to work ? What is to be done about C's heathen 
wife ? Are not Z?.'s children growing up like weeds ? Can we 
manage to find employment for E. or a Christian wife for F. ? It is 
this " care of the Churches " which was a burden to St. Paul, and I 
suppose has been a burden to most of his most earnest successors. 
It is not a thing to tell in a Report, or to draw out enthusiasm in a 
Missionary meeting. But we know, darling, that if a farmer went 
over a huge field, simply scattering grain, perhaps on ground even 
unploughed, and then went home, quite sure that all would go right, 
that he had only to go on for ever sowing and a harvest would 
certainly rise, he would hardly be likely to garner a crop. . . . 07ie 

such matured, ripened Convert as is worth a hundred of those 

whose conduct shows that they hardly deserve the name of Christians.' 

In the course of this January she wrote lovingly to her 
sister : ' It touched my heart that you should have had 
"grief" in your dreams about parting again with your 
Char ! The wrench of saying " Farewell " is what one 
cannot help shrinking from.' 

But despite the pain of long separation from those 
whom she most loved, and despite many cares and 
anxieties this year in her work, Miss Tucker still kept her 
health. Mrs. Baring, writing early in February, could 
say : ' I am so very glad to be able to assure you that 
your precious sister is much better, really looking well ; 
though perhaps not quite so strong as in the days when 
she could easily outstrip me in a walk, or work from 4 A.M. 
to 10 P.M. without feeling very tired.' Few women at 
their strongest could emulate such a day's work, and not 
Z 



354 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

feel ' very tired ' at the end. It is hardly surprising that 
at the age of sixty she should not continue ^ quite so 
strong/ 

Money for the proposed Church had been flowing in ; 
yet still it was not begun. ' We have been, I think/ Miss 
Tucker wrote, ' for nearly two and a half years trying to 
buy a good site, but the Natives will not sell one to us. 
We cannot build on air. We have the money — and the 
will to buy — but we must wait God's time.' A little 
hospital also was planned, but the same difficulties pre- 
sented themselves as to a suitable site, and delays were 
unavoidable. 

Here comes a melancholy little touch of the sad side 
of Missionary work — that side which must inevitably 
exist in everything belonging to this world : — 

' Periiaps you sometimes wonder at my so often making the special 
request for prayer for wisdom. But oh, love, if you knew the puzzling 
cases which meet us ! I observe that experienced and sensible 
Natives are taken in ; so can we wonder at being so ? I will just 
give you a specimen case where we have 7iot been taken in, because 
warned in time. I have not even seen the woman in question ; I 
suppose that the parties found out that we have had notice. ... A 
woman professes, I hear, to be an inquirer. She wishes baptism. 
Why? A Muhammadan man is at the bottom of her inclination 
towards Christianity. The woman is of low caste, so that the man 
would be degraded by marrying her, as he desires to do. Let her 
become a Christian, — that will be a kind of white-washing for her, — 
she will be received amongst us, be able to eat with us, etc. Then 
the Muhammadan is to pervert her to the faith of Islam, and gain 
credit for converting a Christian, instead of disgrace for marrying a 

Mitrani.^ . . . We hope for more than twenty baptisms in C , 

but Francis is in no hurry to baptize, nor I to write to Miss 

about our hopes. I think that I have gained more experience in 
this my seventh year than any other; and dear Francis has also 
greatly added to his. One of the parts of this experience is the 
finding out our need of wisdom from above. Only God knows the 
heart ! Do not suppose me dismayed, or that 1 cease to value the 

1 Very low caste. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 355 

dear Natives ; but it is almost sad to me to see that self-confidence 
which often arises from lack of experience.' 

Miss Tucker might well have said ' very ' instead of 
' almost ' sad. Certain words in a letter of Mrs. Baring's 
to Mrs. Hamilton, soon after, are something of an echo 
to the above : — 

'The blessing she (Miss Tucker) is among those Christian boys is 
incalculable. Perhaps Eternity will show even more fruit from her 
bright, loving, holy influence over them, than over the people in the 
city. They are more able to appreciate her character and teaching 
than the poor degraded heathen, to whom she is much more like an 
angel afar off and above them, than a sister-woman whom they may 
seek to follow and grow like. 

' She does love the boys, and is in her element among them ; and 
they have one and all a chivalrous admiration for her. These years 
in India have taught her some things, I can see. Formerly her 
purse was open to every one ; now she has the same generous spirit, 
guided by caution and experience. This winter's painful lessons in 
the fallibility of our best Native Christians have been to her a very sore 
discipline, and to us too ; but it is really safer for us all to know 
exactly how far we dare trust, than to be thinking those saints who 
are very far from it.' 

A touching little episode about this time is related 
in letters from both A. L. O. E. and Mrs. Baring. The 
latter had been much grieved by quarrelling in one of 
the Muhammadan schools ; and she told her Pandit or 
teacher about it. He was a Sikh, who knew much of 
Christianity, though not yet a Convert. The kind words 
which came in answer were certainly not what might 
have been expected from a heathen. ' But do not be sad 
in heart,' urged the Pandit. Satan is strong, but God 
is stronger. He will hear your prayers.' The speaker 
could surely have been heathen only in name. 

In the end of May it became needful for Mr. and Mrs. 
Baring to go to a cooler spot, leaving Miss Tucker in 
charge at Batala, — once more to be the only European in 
that city. It seemed no great matter to her, and she 



356 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

wrote as usual very cheerily about it beforehand. Little 
dreamt she that this was to be a final parting ; that she 
and her beloved ' Queen Lily ' — her ' Angel-friend ' — would 
never meet again in this life ! 

''May 20, 1882. — The day after to-morrow my dear friends are to 
leave me for the Hills. You must not be sad about it, for I am quite 
happy ; indeed, it will be rather a comfort to me for them to go, sweet 
as is their society, and valuable as is their affection. Francis stands 
heat so very badly. . . . Margaret too loses her pretty pink roses, 
and gets so tired when she goes to the city. On the other hand, / 
am far fitter for work than in winter. ... It is a mistake in kind 
friends to pity me, or think about sacrifices on my part, for the lines 
have fallen to me in a fair ground. Of course, we have things to 
trouble us ; but the blessings far, far outweigh the trials.' 

'•May 23. — Dear Francis and Margaret started last night, the 
young May moon and the stars shining beautifully. It was a 
picturesque scene. The carriage had a lamp within it, as well as one 
or two outside ; the light gleamed on our crowd of boys and men, 
mostly in white garments. Loud was the cheer when our dear ones 
drove off. . . . 

'Well, love, I and our boys returned to Anarkalli. I did not feel 
lonely. I went to bed under the swinging pankah ; and was ere 
long wrapped in repose. O what a startling waking at about 3 A.lM. 
What an uproar I — what a fierce sound of struggle breaks on the 
silence of night, — the call for help — the whack of blows, — it reaches 
Babu Singha's ears at the Banyans, and brings him in haste from his 
bed, — but not till the conflict is over. I start up, and am at the 
window in a minute ; but the moon has gone down ; there is only 
starlight ; nothing can I see, though much can I hear. I recognise 
the loud, manly voice of G., our Christian bihisti.^ I think that 
he is catching a thief, and that the thief has the worst of it. Of course, 
boys and men come running. I hear a call for rope, — yes, certainly 
a thief must have been caught. 

' Presently a wee light is brought. I can see, almost below my 
window, an object crouching on the ground, surrounded by our 
people. They have bound him ; they are examining his face. There 
is a great deal of noise and talking for twenty minutes or more ; 
and then the robber is evidently led away, and I retire again to rest. 

1 Water-carrier. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 357 

My heart beat no faster, but it certainly would have beaten faster, 
had I known the extent of dear, brave G.'s danger. When I came 
down in the morning, there was the robber, in iron fetters, with 
his face all marked with blood, — with the police around. He was 
crouching on the ground, a picture of a ruffian, a miserable ruffian. 

' Babu Singha told me that there had been five burglars ; but only 
two had ventured near the house. Our chaukidar-^ . . . gave the 
alarm. G. rushed to the rescue, and he and B. between them, 
with some help from the dhobi,^ succeeded in catching the robber ; 
but not without G. receiving hurts from his heavy stick. Babu 
Singha told me that the robber is a very powerful man. But, oh 
Laura, what gave me the greatest feeling of the danger G. had 
been in, was being shown the razor which the robber had had about 
him. It had been dropped. Thank God, that had not been used ; 
indeed, I do not think that the ruffian had been given time to use it. 
If he had, he might have killed G. . . .' 

Two months of busy work followed ; towards the close 
of which came another adventure, — a robber again, but 
this time one on four legs instead of two. 

''July 18, 1882. — Our palace was invaded by a wild cat. She 
caught a poor pigeon in the south room, carried it through the 
dining-room into my room, and left its half-eaten remains on my 
floor. Another time she had the impertinence to crouch on 
sleeping C.^ A wild cat is not a pleasant visitor ; her mode 
of attack, if incensed, being to spring at the throat. So I set a 
price, a moderate one, on the wild cat's head. She came again, — 
she was sure to do so to a house where boys keep pets, and where 
she had already captured a pigeon. At night I heard a battle-royal 
going on over my head. I did not rise ; I guessed that there was a 
furious conflict between the boys and the wild cat. On the following 
morning I saw the animal lying dead, and paid the reward.' 

A few days more, and the bolt fell. News came that 
Mrs. Baring was ill ; and that her husband, away from her 
at the time, had hastened back, to find her in a high fever. 
Then a rather better report arrived ; and Charlotte Tucker 
was so far cheered as to write to Mrs. Hamilton in much 
her usual strain, hoping that it might prove to be ' only a 

1 Watchman. 2 Washerman. s One of the boys. 



358 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

passing indisposition.' Before this letter was closed, 
tidings were received that all was over. Erysipelas had 
set in, the fair face becoming unrecognisable, and with 
little warning the gentle saint, so ready to go, had passed 
away. It was a very heavy blow ; and though Miss Tucker, 
as usual, thought far more of what others felt than of what 
she felt herself, the letters written afterwards show how 
much she suffered : — 

''Aug. 9. — I feel as if I did not care to write much save on one 
theme. The enclosed letters, which you will read, will give you 
particulars of the sad, sad event, which must have shocked you much. 
. . . How little I dreamed, when I saw the two driven off in the dak- 
gari, while the moonlight fell on the picturesque scene, that one, 
and that the stronger one, . . . would never return to Batala again ! 
But the dear Lord knew that she was ready. He does not call His 
children to mount up as on eagles' wings till the wings are fledged. 

'This is the saddest year that I have ever passed in India. . . .' 

''Aug. II, 1882. — My dearest Leila, I doubt not that both you and 
your loved Mother have shed tears over sweet, sweet Margaret's loss, 
— or rather, our loss, — and that you have tenderly sympathised both 
with my poor Bhatija and with me. This has been a year of succes- 
sive trials, not only to us but to others in the Mission field, — a time to 
make us search our hearts and examine our work. It seems almost 
as if my two Scripture texts at present are, " Faint, yet pursuing," — 
and "Lord, we have toiled all night, and caught nothing, yet at Thy 
Word we will let down the net." . . . 

' It seems such an age before I can get a reply to any letter 
addressed to Francis. Time goes so slowly now ! It is only a week 
to-day since I received the startling news.' 

The especial trials referred to, apart from the death of 
Mrs. Baring, were numerous difficulties and disappoint- 
ments among and with the members of their little flock 
of Indian Christians. One trouble had followed upon 
the heels of another. 



CHAPTER XII 

A.D. 1882-1883 

THE FIRST STONE OF BATALA CHURCH 

About the middle of August Miss Tucker went for change 
to Allahabad ; and very soon after her arrival she was able 
to speak of herself as ' less tired ' than before leaving 
Batala ; despite two nights of severe travelling, inclusive 
of sixteen hours straight off in her duli. ' The change of 
air already tells on my bodily frame/ she wrote ; ' and the 
change of scene on my mind and spirits. ... I was becoming 
low in every way.' Before the end of September she was 
back again in Batala ; and there she was soon joined by 
Mr. Baring, after his most sad absence. For a while, but 
only for a while, Batala was still to be his home. 

In October for the first time the idea came definitely up 
of building a 'Mission Bungalow' in the place, an idea 
which afterwards developed into A. L. O. E.'s last earthly 
home. 

It was also in the course of 1882 that some one wrote a 

sketch of her life, and requested her to revise the same 

before publication. Miss Tucker had not attained to 

modern composure on such questions, and she wrote with 

indignation : ' I am afraid . . . neither you nor others may 

like my note to . ... I need not dwell upon the part 

about the little book ; it is too personal to myself What 

would you think of a little book being written about 

yourself, — and sent to you to correct ? Oh ! Oh ! ! Oh ! ! ! ' 

359 



36o THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

For some time past Charlotte Tucker had been watching 
with great interest the movements of the Salvation Army 
in India ; at first with a disposition to admire and approve, 
which tendency gave place gradually to strong disap- 
proval, as she saw more of the methods employed, and 
found the exceedingly defective nature of the religious 
teaching given. 

Some very curious glimpses of Indian modes of life and 
thought, and of the manner in which Miss Tucker dealt 
with them, appear in the letters of 1882 and 1883, as will 
be seen in succeeding extracts. Among the singular things 
constantly happening, an old woman in a Zenana, at 
about this time, composedly offered to sell to A. L. O. E. 
one of her daughters-in-law. ' If you will give me a 
hundred rupees, you may have her,' the old woman said 
frankly. Needless to remark, Miss Tucker did not buy 
the poor girl ! 

^ Nov. 17, 1882. — I had, I thought, finished my Zenana-visiting 
to-day, when a man, at a loom in a room which I had not entered, 
called out to me, " I wish a Gospel. I want to compare it with the 
Koran." He and the bibi wanted me to come into their room ; so 
of course I went and sat down. Says the man, " I think my 
religion good. I want to compare our books." " Much better," said I. 
The man brought his Koran, a translation into Urdu, probably made 
by some Christian, or at least printed in some Christian press. The 
good man treated me to such a long reading of the Koran, page after 
page, I did not know when he would stop I I felt it not only common 
politeness to sit and listen attentively, but good policy also, for how 
can I expect an earnest Muhammadan to give the Gospel a fair hear- 
ing, if I will not even listen to the Koran ? 

' The man was anxious that I should understand as well as hear, 
stopping every now and then to translate a word that he thought 
might puzzle me. But the Urdu was particularly simple for anything 
doctrinal. To understand anything doctrinal, even such sermons as 
I hear, it is absolutely necessary to know some Arabic words. I have 
written out more than two hundred,— chiefly Arabic, — all beginning 
with M, and mostly three-syllabled words, which I feel that I ought 
to know ; yet they are hardly of any use with women ; and if I have 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 361 

them all at my fingers' ends, I shall still be very imperfectly furnished. 
Is it not a puzzling language ? Of course, some of these two hundred 
words are provokingly similar to each other, but the meaning is 
different.' 

In the same letter she mentions a visit from the Indian 
Christian Faqir, M., who a quarter of a century before 
had given up a lucrative situation, and ever since had 
wandered about India, preaching the Gospel. On 20th 
November the same subject recurs : — 

' His type of devotion is thoroughly Hi7idu^ transfigured into Chris- 
tianity. . . . One part of our conversation, however, amused me. . . . 
It was when we came on the subject of celibacy. The Hindu 
evidently thought it better than marriage, He seemed to regard it 
as an objection to the latter, that when a husband lost his wife he 
would cry for two or three days ! — the Faqir's ^ religion is a very 
joyful one, and when his eyes moisten it is with religious emotion. 
I stood up for marriage. The dear man is no stern ascetic ; he 
smiled and half gave way, and said that he liked people to be happy. 
It is pretty clear, however, as regards himself that it is better for him 
to be unwedded. He walks long distances ; sometimes forty — fifty 
— sixty — miles. He says that he is not so strong as he was. But he 
thinks nothing of age ; the spirit never grows old. . . . M.'s voice is 
peculiar ; one could always tell without seeing him whether he were 
in chapel or not ; for his " Amen " sounds like a note from a bassoon.' 

''Nov. 21, 1882. — While it is fresh in my mind I had better give you 
a description of our grand day, the laying of the first stone of our 
Church by the Lieutenant-Governor. . . . 

' Since the old days of the Sikhs I doubt whether Batala ever saw 
such a tamasha. Numbers and numbers of boys were gathered to- 
gether by dear Francis, lining the roads, and cheering. Gay looked 
the many-coloured turbans. Mr. Wade thought there must be about 
one thousand boys, for we had Government School, City School, our 
Village Schools, and our own boys. We had a fine triumphal arch at 
the opening into our grounds, with " Welcome " in gold on scarlet ; but it 
was far surpassed by the lovely one in Persian Urdu, prepared by our 
boys for the Church site : " Him that cometh to Me, I will in no wise 
cast out." Dear Emily Wauton came and helped us greatly ; she 
specially took the luncheon-table under her care ; and very elegant 
it looked, with the cold collation, and plenty of flowers from Amritsar. 
1 This particular Faqir, Miss Tucker meant. 



362 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

My bedroom overlooks our front door, so in this room our three 
pardah-nisJiin were hidden. ... I dare say that these poor prisoners ^ 
of pardah specially enjoyed what was to them so novel. The good 
Lieutenant-Governor was more than punctual ; a happy thing, as we 
had much for him to do, and only about an hour and a half to do it in. 
He brought with him his daughter, a winsome young maiden, . . . 
whom I called "dear" before we parted. I liked the Lieutenant- 
Governor very much ; a man of fine presence but simple manners. . . . 

'The luncheon was preceded by the reading by one of the Batala 
non-Christian magnates of an address, emblazoned with gold ; other 
Batala folk, some in very grand dresses, standing in line. The 
Lieutenant-Governor gave a reply in English, which I doubt whether 
many understood. Then we went to our collation ; fifteen sat 

down. . . . You should have seen our servant ; he was quite 

magnificent. He had on such a gold-adorned pagri that it might 
have graced the head of a rajah, and had as much gold on his dress. 
I did not think that he looked like a Missionary's servant, but we left 
him to enjoy his splendour. I had thought, darling, whether I should 
wear yoicr silk dress : 2 but no, thought I ; in my Batala I will 7iot 
wear silken attire ; so I wore my Laura's purple, which was just the 
thing, sober and handsome. The collation went over nicely ; we 
could not linger at it long, and no one could drink too much, as water 
was our beverage. After seeing the view from the roof, we started 
in the borrowed carriages for the Church. The first carriage, which 
held the Aitchesons, Mera Bhatija, and myself, had highly conser- 
vative horses, decidedly opposed to progress. No use coaxing and 
urging them ; the " nat-khats " would not go. The only thing was to 
get out and go into another carriage. 

' Of course, there were many people at the site of our church. We 
had four surpliced clergymen, my three nephews, Francis, Mr. Wade, 
and Mr. Weitbrecht, and Nobin Chanda.^ . . . The religious Service 
was very nice ; of course, in Urdu. Then Sir Charles ^ spread mortar 
over the place on which the marble block was to descend, in what was 
considered a very workmanlike manner. We sang " The Church's 
One Foundation " in Urdu ; Mr. Weitbrecht's and Mr. Wade's fine 
voices making it sound so well. Sir Charles made such a nice 
religious speech ; it was almost like a little Missionary address. He 
had had, he said, a very private conversation for an hour with a 
Native of distinction, who was in concern about his soul ; and it 
ended by the Native saying that he had sometimes prayed to the 

1 Some Native ladies. 2 Wx%. Hamilton's gift. 

3 A Native clergyman. ^ gij- Charles Aitcheson, the Lieutenant-Governor, 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 363 

Lord Jesus, but would now pray to Him every day. Thank God for 
a Lieutenant-Governor who thus shows his Christian colours 1 

* We drove to the station, after again forsaking the carriage drawn 
by the "nat-khats."^ Sir Charles made me come into the railway 
carriage, to see its comfortable arrangements. Thoughtful Francis 
had caused tea and cake to be taken to the station. All went off so 
nicely ; and m.y dear Bhatija feels that he has not had his labour 
and expense for nothing.' 

''Nov. 28. — In three days I am to go up to Amritsar, . . . where I am 
to sleep on that Friday night. ... By some afternoon train I shall 
probably then go to Lahore. . . . On Sunday there are to be special 
services for the Conference, and Holy Communion is to be admini- 
stered ; a meet commencement for a gathering together of sisters 
from nine different Societies. But Char has a special interest of her 
own. "We have at least a dozen of those who were Batala boys at 
Lahore. ... I have arranged that my boys should meet me on 
Sunday afternoon. This is to me one of the most interesting 
parts of my visit to Lahore. ... I have been obliged to prepare 
two little papers, but have made them mercifully short. I think that 
one takes about five and the other three minutes to read aloud, — I 
timed the reading, — so no one will have time to be tired.' 

Of the above event Miss Wauton says: 'In 1882 she 
came to a Conference in Lahore, in which all the Zenana 
Missions of the Panjab were represented, and was with one 
consent elected President of the Meetings. None who were 
present could ever forget the tactful, graceful way in which 
she conducted the proceedings. Many, I believe, felt that 
the harmonious spirit, which prevailed in that assembly, 
was largely due to the loving and Catholic spirit of our 
President.' 

''Dec. 15, 1882. — I have written to the s about the Salvation 

Meeting at Lahore, at which I was present. I have not told them, 
however, how sad an impression it left on my mind. . . . To me 
there was no real joyousness in the sound of the drum and the tam- 
bourines. . . . The puzzle is to me how such music CAN be the 
means of converting any, unless it be English roughs. X.- was 
eager to join the "Army," and go with them for a month to Calcutta. 
But he went to the meetings, and his wish appears to have evaporated ; 

1 Naughty ones. " A young Native. 



364 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

at least here he is. . . . The prevailing feeling in my heart (at the 
meeting) was — pity. Though I knelt, I really could not pray. The 
big drum and tambourines seemed to silence any whisper of real 
devotion in my soul. ... I think that I have just ascertained one 
thing which has cooled our really devout X. It appears that he 

asked ^ about Holy Communion, and found that he had not 

received it since coming to India ! Alas ! alas ! and if he lets 
Natives consider themselves saved and sure of Heaven without 
Baptism, — where will all end? The Blessed Saviour's two clear 

commands neglected ! And just killing himself to introduce such 

a mere — one almost fears — shadow of religion ! It is just grievous ! 
How inconceivably artful the Enemy is ! ' 

''Dec. 21.— I paid a visit to a village to-day. I first went to the 
school, then paid my respects to the lady of the place. . . . She 
showed me into a pretty bare room, — a chair was brought for me 
afterwards. But I thought little about the room ; its strange 
occupants attracted my attention. I seemed transported into the 
Middle Ages, and found myself amongst the retainers of some bold 
baron, — men who looked like the stuff out of which freebooters are, 
or were, made. There were four powerful men, with four falcons ; 
and the hoods of the falcons were grand. I suspect that they were 
valuable birds, used for hunting. 

' I had an animated conversation with these burly fellows — not the 
birds, but the men — if that could be called a conversation, where the 
talking was almost entirely on one side. I had my Parable of the 
Two Paths with me, and spoke very plainly about Paradise and Hell ; 
— and they listened to the old lady with perfect good-humour. I 
dare say that the bold falconers were rather surprised to find such 
an apparition in the village ; for they seemed to have nothing to do 
with Batala, where of course my face is very familiar. 

'As I was returning in my little duli, I saw a bullock-cart in front, 
with a kind of red, dome-shaped vehicle on it, which of course con- 
tained some pardah-lady, perhaps a bride. I noticed that the 
curtain was drawn back. Probably the prisoned inmate of the red 
cage had caught sight of the duli, and was curious to see its 
occupant. As my kahars went faster than the bullocks, I passed the 
red cage, and a bright jewel-bedizened lady — smiling, as if amused at 
seeing a white woman — exchanged brief glances with me. I thought 
her a pretty creature. I wonder what she thought of the old lady 
who smiled at her.' 

1 A leading Salvationist. 




©,^^^&^-' .aJ: C^m^rrAiar' aJ-'<?-u/ /S'S^ 



>Jc iJ(^?zyCi^ c^Ce^/}ia-,.Mt/l{J) 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 365 

The New Year begins with a line from Mrs. Wade to 
Mrs. Hamilton, in reference to the recent Conference : — 

' Amritsar, A^^7£/ Yeaf^s Day^ 1883. 
' I wish you could have seen dear Miss Tucker as President of our 
Lahore Ladies' Conference. She did all so perfectly ; one only 
feared her being over tired, but I think she is stronger than she was 
some months ago. We had the pleasure of her staying a night with 
us on her way ; and her walking powers are wonderful ! You will 
no doubt have a report of the Conference, and of her solemn and 
helpful words on John xiii., as it is to be printed in England.' 

Although Mrs. Wade could speak of her ' walking 
powers ' as ' wonderful,' Miss Tucker had at this period 
hardly the same unvarying good health as in earlier years. 
A few days later she was laid by with an attack of 
' shingles,' with pain in the side. The Native doctor, 
called in, informed her that nothing was wrong with 
either lungs or heart, — the pain which troubled her being 
' simply from the nerves,' which were * affected by the 
eruption.' Miss Tucker assured him that she was not 
nervous. Upon which, as she relates, ' the Hindu doctor 
smiled quietly, and gave me to understand that nerves are 
real things. He had not meant that I was fanciful. So 
the whole thing was simple enough,' she philosophically 
adds. ' To make a bull, I had a little toothache in my 
side.' The attack gave way readily. 

''Ja?t. 25, 1883. — One is so apt to feel for the poor, down-trodden 
Muhammadan women, that, until I began to read a novelette 
written by a Native, I had no idea how they sometimes turn the 
tables on their husbands. I am reading the book with N. N., who 
quite confirms the truthfulness of the picture. It appears that a 
woman will sometimes be asked a question ten times by her husband, 
before she vouchsafes an answer. Some women burn the soles of 
their shoes, and make a preparation of them to put on the eyes, 
believing that by this strange superstitious means they will always 
keep their husbands under their feet ! With all the talk about 
Woman's Rights, we have hardly got so far as this ! ' 

''Feb. 20. — Mera Bhatija and I took rather a long walk this after- 



366 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

noon, to look at a lovely little mosque. I had said before to Francis, 
" How is it that the mosques are so beautiful, and our churches 
here — unless expensively built — so ugly?" Francis gave me a 
simple but good reason : " We want people to go into our churches ; 
the Muhammadans worship outside theirs." You see, love, we have 
first to think of room and comfort ; so beauty gets shoved into a 
corner. 

' We went to look more closely at the graceful mosque, to see if we 
could gain hints. I made a rough sketch of the front. Francis says 
that it would be much too expensive for us to have anything so 
ornamental. We want room for one hundred people at least ; and 
that dot of a mosque would hold comparatively very few. Mera 
Bhatija thinks that we might indulge in two minarets, and ornament 
our church with clay vessels turned upside down, and painted white, 
with a little Cross on the top of each. We must have a good-sized 
Cross, gilt, to glitter in the sun, on the top of all. , . . The Cross is 
our Banner, the Sign of Faith in the Son of God, rejected by 
Muhammadan and Hindu ! It should crown — and sparkle on, too — 
every religious edifice in this land.' 

''March 8, 1883. — I had an extraordinary conversation with a 
Muhammadan boy to-day. His name is Y. He lives in what I 
consider a nest of bigotry. I am more likely to have to dispute there 
than in any other place in Batala. I had with me, besides my Bible, 
the " Mirror of the Heart," which contains beautifully coloured 
pictures of the human heart, with allegorical vices represented by 
various animals, the serpent, rat, etc. It is a valuable help to a 
Missionary. The first heart is that of the natural man, before 
repentance ; the second, that of a man repenting. The fourth is a 
horrid heart, of a dingy colour, with a black c?-oss in it, and seven 
devils, mounted on the bad emblems, wanting to get in. It is the 
heart of a hypocrite. Well, dear one, I was showing this picture in a 
Zenana, and a grave-looking boy, to whom before I had given a 
portion of Scripture, and who I think once studied in our Mission- 
School, Y., was close beside me. When I had gone over the 
various pictures, I said to Y., "Which of these hearts," — showing 
the first and second, — " is like yours ? " I meant, " Are you repenting 
or unrepenting?" The boy, perhaps fourteen years of age, would 
not agree that either was like his. To my surprise he made me turn 
over to the fourth heart, and told me that was like his. 

'"But it is not a Muhammadan's heart," said I. "You see the 
Cross is in it, — but it is black." 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER ^67 

' " And how do you know," said the boy gravely, " that the Cross 
is not in my heart V I think that he repeated this touching question 
afterwards. In short, he kept firmly to his declaration that that 
heart was the one like his. What is passing in that lad's soul .'' Does 
he consider himself a hypocrite, with seven devils surrounding him ? 
If so, he must be a hypocrite as regards Muhammadanism ? — for he 
does not pretend to be a Christian. I suspect that this may be the 
case. He has a cross, but it is a black one, because he does not 
confess the Saviour. 

' There is a great change in dear 's mother. (You remember 

perhaps the dear lad in a bigoted home, who so loved the Lord 
Jesus, bore persecution for Him, and died in peace.) My last visit to 
that house was so different to the first ! On the first occasion I left 
the place so shocked, that I uttered the exclamation as I went, 
" God have mercy on you ! " I do not think that I ever left any other 
house with such an exclamation on my lips. The last time I left the 
house with the exclamation, "God grant!" The mother had told 
me the story of her eldest brother, a policeman, who, like her son, 
had become Christian in heart, and incurred the fierce anger of 
his father by speaking against Muhammad. A Suni ^ had stabbed 
the policeman in the side with a knife ; but the Christian refused to 
prosecute. He was very gentle, just like the nephew who followed 
in his steps. The policeman left Lahore, — this was more than 
twenty years ago, — and has never been heard of since. Probably he 
is numbered in the noble army of martyrs. 

' I said, " I think that both your brother and son are with the Lord 
Jesus." " Without doubt ! " cried this once bigoted woman. I urged 
her to follow them, and asked her if she had no love for the Lord in 
her heart. " He is the Apple of my eye," she replied. You must not 
suppose, love, that there is any immediate prospect of Baptism ; but 
I talked to her about it ; and, as I have mentioned, left the house 
with a " God grant ! " ' 

''March 24, 1883. — We cannot see one step before us ! I was 
thinking to-day, as I was going to the City, where my work seems of so 
little use, " Abraham had to wait for twenty years before God kept 
His promise to him." Perhaps it may be twenty years before the 
promise is fulfilled— fully— to me, "Your labour is not vain in the Lord." 

' O the utter carelessness of some of the women, who will 
interrupt the most solemn, heart-searching conversation with a 

1 Sect of Muhammadans. 



368 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

question about my dress, or a request for a pin. They seem so 
utterly frivolous ! Then those who do think, and have some concern 
for religion, are such earnest Muhammadans ; it is with them a 
matter of heart-love ! It is a mystery how it should be so, when 
Muhammad was not only a murderer and profligate, but has lowered 
woman altogether ; but it seems especially the women who delight 
in his false religion. They do not care for its having no proofs ; 
they love it.' 

''March 28. — I had rather an interesting visit to-day, which you 
may like to hear about. 

' I went to the house of a Maulvi ... I had books to take to his 
sweet young daughter ; and soon I found that the ladies had gone to 
a wedding ; but as two servants were in the house, I thought it better 
to stop and give the " good news " to them. Whether they cared 
about it or not, I know not. After my interview with them, I was 
about to leave, when who should come in but the master of the 
house, the Maulvi himself. (He is not the same one who was so proud, 
that I could not help an unpremeditated rebuke escaping from my 
lips.) This Maulvi was fresh from a pilgrimage to Mecca ; but the 
merit ascribed to a Haji did not seem to make him proud at all. 

' He courteously addressed me, sat down, and prepared for a 
tete-a-tete with the Englishwoman. He told me that he had none 
of our books ; that he wanted a controversial one, that he might 
compare the two religions. There was no appearance of bigotry at 
all. He asked me whether we read prayers. I told him that we not 
only had regular prayer, but that we sang God's praises, — which the 
Muhammadans never do, — and opening my Bible, I read aloud 
several passages in which Hasrat David (Saint David) commands us 
to do so. My gentle Maulvi made no observation on this proof that 
Christians pay more obedience than Muhammadans do to the com- 
mands of one whom both acknowledge as a Prophet. . . . 

'Accompany me now to another Zenana. A young man showed 
himself again and again, as if he wanted to take a share in con- 
versation, but did not at first see his way to doing so. At last he 
told me that there was great excitement. I could not for some time 
make out what it was about ; it seemed to be about some birth ; but 
then it appeared to be about something else. At last the difficulty 
cleared up. The young Muhammadan made me understand that it 
was said that the Imam Mahdi had been born ; and on account of 
this there was great excitement in H and over the country. 

' I said that I had heard that a man, calling himself the Mahdi, 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 369 

near Egypt. The young man did not seem to have an idea where 
the long-expected Imam is, but he said that when the place should 
be known all would go to see him. My curiosity was a little aroused. 
I asked what the Mahdi was to do. " To reign over all kingdoms, and 
make every one Muhammadan." " But if they should not choose to 
be Muhammadans?" "Oh, all will be Muhammadans." "But if I 
did not choose to be a Muhammadan, would he kill me ? " " No, his 
rule will be like that of the English." 

' I would not trust the Mahdi, however, nor that animated young 
man ! This was the only Zenana in which I have heard of the 
Mahdi ; and I have visited plenty. I had more talk with the 
Muhammadan. I said that I thought that the Dajal was expected 
to come before the Mahdi. No, — the Mahdi is to come first ; then 
the Dajal ; and then Jesus Christ ! It is curious to hear these ideas ! ' 

''March 28. — I almost think that the Muhammadans are stronger 
in their bigotry, from an expectation of some coming event at the 
coming Ramazan (great fast) in July. Perhaps, some of them think, 
there will be great pestilence ; perhaps Christ and the Mahdi will 
come ; — and the sun rise in the west instead of in the east. The 
more intelligent do not seem to expect the last wonder.' 

''April 27. — The beautiful monument which Francis is going to 
place over the grave of sweet Margaret was sent here from Delhi. I 
have sent a sketch of it to her sisters, and another to Mrs. Baring. 
I did not find it so easy to draw as I expected, on account of the 
perspective of the three white marble steps, which support the pure 
white Cross. . . . How little we know who will be called ! I 
remember my pleading with her not to delay coming out, or she 
might find a Cross instead of her friend. The white Cross has been 
for her, not for me ; and I see no likelihood at present of my soon 
being called, though of course one never knows. I have seen so 
many young pass away since I came to India.' 

In the same letter she says with respect to the Baring 
High School : ' I hope and expect that our School has 
reached its lowest ebb, — twenty-three boys, mostly Httle 
ones. There is some likelihood of six more coming.' 

Mrs. Hamilton had begun to ask occasionally to her 
house in London young Indians who had come to 
England for a Western education. Some of them she saw 
repeatedly, and reference is often made to them in letters. 
2 A 



370 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

C. M. T. TO THE REV. W. F. T, HAMILTON. 

^Jiine 19, 1883. 
' Shortly after writing to your dear Mother, I had myself a visit 
from a Muhammadan. I remembered what I had just been writing,^ 
so soon plunged straight into the subject of religion, I had seen 
Sheik A. twice before ; and the first time had had a good talk. 
Yesterday he listened very well, though I ventured to contrast 
Muhammad a little with the Blessed One. Sheik A. agreed to his 
wife visiting me here this evening, — I sending a dull for her, as she 

is " pardah-nishin " ; and as he is going to L , he asked me for a 

letter of introduction to some lady there, that she might visit his 
wife. This was encouraging. Sheik A. took a cup of tea with me, 
and we parted excellent friends. Perhaps a couple of hours after- 
wards my dear Faqir, M., came to see me. He too had been 
having an interview with Sheik A. " Much excitement," said the 
Faqir, I think that the Muhammadan had probably not been as 
much on his good behaviour with the dark Madrassee as with the 
white Englishwoman. There seemed to have been a hot discussion 
below. Dear M. was inclined to reproach himself. "Harsh! — 
my loud voice ! " said he. Depend upon it, he went at his work like 
a cannon. But all seemed to end well. I think he told me that 
Sheik A. and he shook hands as they parted.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'>/)/2I, 1883. 

' How different it is writing a free and easy letter to you, from a 

studied one like that to ! I hope that my Laura will not consider 

Char a conceited old woman, who likes no one to find fault with her 

writings. But, you see, love, I know nothing of Mr. 's capacity 

to act as critic. ... I cannot consent to walk in chains because 

Mr. has a liberal hand and a full purse. I am so glad that I 

refused pecuniary recompense. In Avriting I must be free. I hope 
that I have not made a mistake in putting in as many proverbs as I 
have done. It was difficult to select. How inappropriate — clever 
as it is ! — would it have been to put in such as this, " The sieve said 
to the needle. You have a hole in your tail "!'... 

''Aug. 4, — Yes, love, I dare say that I was mistaken about your 
entering on religious subjects soon with the young Indians. I often 

1 Advice to her sister to enter liabitually, without delay, upon the subject of 
religion with Indians. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER yji 

doubt my own judgment. You see, it is a disadvantage to me 
to have no one to correct me. This has been, I think, my most 
lonely hot weather. 

' I am thankful that I do not hold the doctrine of Perfectionism. 
I should be very miserable if I did ; for sometimes it seems to 
me as if I went backwards instead of forwards. If I thought that 
a real child of God ought to be perfect, I must come to the 
conclusion that I at least am not a child of God. But I do not hold 
this view, and I see that the holy Simeon wrote clearly and distinctly 
against it.' 

'Alexandra School, Amritsar, Aug. 15, 1883. 

' Here I am in this big palace, a good deal bigger than my Batala 
one, — the guest of dear, loving Florrie.^ . . . 

' I have been taking my morning walk. I saw the old banyan in 
the garden of what was my first Indian home with sweet Margaret. 
The downward shoot which I named " Batala " has now the size of 
the trunk of a tree.' 

A visit of two or three weeks to her nephew at Dunga 
Gully followed, where the children were a great enjoyment 
to her, letters home being full of the pretty utterances of 
little Tudor and Beryl. On the 15 th of September, 
however, she once more gaily reported herself as 'back 
again in dear old Batala ! ' and again the steady round 
of work went on as usual. 

' Sept. 19. — A lady who knows a good deal about Muhammadanism, 
and has read from the Hadis (Muhammadan traditions), told me 
something very curious that she had come upon. . . . 

' There is a supposed prophecy of Muhammad, that in the latter 
days a marvellous being, called Dajal, will appear. He will perform 
marvels, bring a band of musicians, and whoever hears the enchanting 
sound will follow him, leaving friends, parents, etc. ... I, after 

hearing this, inquired about Dajal from . He, having been a 

learned Muhammadan, of course knew all about the prophecy. . . . 
Dajal, who will become a king, is to have but onQ eye, and ride an 
ass nine coss (about fourteen miles) long ! . . . Dajal is supposed to 
be an evil being, drawing downwards those whom he influences. 
After him the Muhammadans expect the Imam Mahdi ; — and then, 
our Blessed Lord. 

1 Miss Swainson. 



372 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

' What extraordinary ideas these people have of our Saviour ! 
They think that He never died, but was caught up to Heaven, and 
some one else crucified in His stead. This is a true doctrine of the 
devil, for of course it strikes against all belief in the Atonement. It 
would drive us from the very key and central point of our faith. 
Often have I tried to show how completely such a doctrine is against 
prophecy. Well, dear, this is not all. The Muhammadans believe that 
after our Lord comes again, to convert tJie world to Muha7ni)iada7tiS7n^ 
He will die ! I have spoken with one who has actually seoi the place 
where His ficttire tomb is to be at Medina ! It is near Muhammad's 
grave, and is considered a very holy place. There is a handsome black 
marble slab, bordered with white, and fine palings around.' 

TO MISS LEILA HAMILTON. 

''Sept. 24. 

' I have started to-day a temporary drawing-class for the five poor 
little boys who have to stay here all during the holidays. They 
are so pleased. It was a pleasure to me to see them all seated, busy 
with pencil and paper, instead of lounging about wearily. I did not 
succeed in making them do a bit of carpentering for me. 

' The drawing lesson was a lesson to me, dear. After my own 
fashion, it seemed to me a type, and — strange as it may seem to you — 
a type bearing on the disputed subject of perfection in this life. We 
are all children, — the sooner we realise this, the better ! — and the Lord 
sets us a copy ; not a poor little one, such as I placed before the boys, 
but a perfect, exquisite one. Now, I imagine three of our boys draw- 
ing as nicely as they can, and then coming to me with their copies. 

'The first is very happy indeed. "It is quite perfect !' says he. 
" My dear child, yoic may think so, but / do not think so. Take your 
measuring paper, and go over your copy more carefully ; and you 
will see that not all the lines are straight." 

' The second comes to me, crying. " I shall never manage my 
copy," sighs he. " It is not a quarter as good as the picture, and yet 
I took such pains!" "Yes, dear boy, I see that you have taken 
pains ; and that is all that I require. You will do better in time. 
But dry your tears. Did you really think that I should be angry 
with you, because your drawing is not perfect ? " 

' The third looks modestly into my face, to see if he has pleased me. 
He knows that he has tried to please me ; and though he has not 
succeeded in making a perfect drawing, he has succeeded in pleasing. 

'The third child is the one whom I should most wish to resemble. 
He trusts me ! ' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 373 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

' Oct. 14, 1883. 

* Do you ever note what is the first waking thought when conscious- 
ness returns in the morning? . . . The other day my thought on 
awakening was so very odd, that it made an impression by its very 
strangeness. I could not imagine what could have put it into my 
head, and you will smile when you read it. " The sjiuffers ivere of 
gold P"^ I have not so much as seen snuffers since I came to India, . . . 
Why on earth should my waking thought be of them ? " Well," con- 
sidered I, "snuffers are worthy of mention in the Bible ; and those in 
the Temple iveix of gold. What can I make out of this thought.'^'' 

' Then it occurred to me that the office of snuffers, humble enough, 
being to make candles brighter, the office was emblematical perhaps 
of that which St. Paul adjudged to the aged women. They were to 
teach the young women to love their husbands, etc. At last I began 
to think, darling, that perhaps my place in the Church here is a little 
like that of a pair of snuffers ; and now, when I feel that I ought to give 
a little word in season to Native Christians, I fancy that I have to snuff 
them — not out\ — O no! — only to remove some little superfluity. . . . 

' I think I must have amused my Laura with my idea of the 
snuffers ; but it may be a useful thought to those who are no longer 
young. A little gentle snuffing may be the work — unostentatious 
work — given to us. . . . What a snip dear H. gave to W. long, long 
ago, and how the fine boy admired her for it 1 . . . But then the 
snuffers were of gold. No one likes to be snuffed by coarse iron ones. 

' What a pity that I have no one to snuff me here ! Were we 
together, it would be your office, love, I have to act as my own 
snuffers, and take hints never intended to be hints, like noble Tudor's 
— " I must do my duty." He had no idea that he was acting the part 
of a tiny pair of gold snuffers. I may almost say that I have taken 
these snuffers up, and have been snipping away with them at our 
young Natives ever since. No mortal could object to such a minia- 
ture pair. 

' Oct. 16, — Do not think, from what is written above, that, as I 
grow older, I think it well to grow more censorious. If I have grown 
in anything this year, I think that it is in knowledge of my own 
errors and mistakes, I sometimes feel quite disheartened, I do not 
think that I ever more mistrusted my own judgment than I do now, 
after my various blunders. But we know that, though snuffers are 
less straight, comely, and upright, perhaps, than the candlestick, they 
may be useful in brightening the light which it carries.' 



CHAPTER XIII 

A.D. 1884-1885 
SOME OF A. L. O. E.'S POSSESSIONS 

Some little time before this Mr. Baring had, for various 
reasons, decided to leave Batala, though not, it seems, to 
give up his interest in the High School. His departure 
was fixed for the last day of the year 1883 ; and Miss 
Tucker, after her usual cheerful fashion, congratulated 
herself upon the fact that, at least, the New Year would 
not begin with a parting. 

Much uncertainty had prevailed as to who should be 
chosen to carry on Mr. Baring's most important work 
among the boys ; but before the end of December sus- 
pense was ended. Another of Miss Tucker's dharm- 
nephews, the Rev. Herbert U. Weitbrecht, with his wife 
and children, would come to live in Anarkalli, and Mr, 
Weitbrecht would be the Principal. By this time a 
Mission Bungalow in Batala was finished, and two German 
ladies. Miss Hoernle and Miss Krapf, came in the course 
of December to reside in it. Miss Tucker, however, does 
not yet appear to have thought of changing her quarters. 
Indeed, the little bungalow was built to contain only two 
ladies. 

On December 27th she wrote home as to arrange- 
ments : — 

' The Weitbrechts are to come here on Jan. 15 for about a fort- 
night. I am to keep house until they come for good about the 

374 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER- 375 

middle of March ; and then my fair niece, EUie, is to take the reins. 
She and her two children must go to the Hills in May. All purpose 
going to England in the following March. As Herbert did not wish 
to be buying much furniture, when so soon to be on the wing, I felt 
it the best plan to take some off dear Francis' hands, and let the 
Weitbrechts have the use of them. Thus, I find myself the possessor 
of a very large bed, immensely long table, and a variety of other things 
too numerous to recount. 

' There is no use in my not wanting possessions, — they will come ! 
I have even a large coffin, which is not the slightest use to me ! I 
did not buy that from Francis ! . . .' 

The fact of Miss Tucker including a coffin amongst her 
possessions requires a word of explanation. About this 
time the Rev. Robert Clark went to pay a little visit to 
Batala ; and on his first arrival he was shown straight to 
the room which he would occupy while there. Miss 
Tucker came running in, and exclaimed — 

' I hope you have not seen it, — have you ? ' 

Mr. Clark naturally inquired what was the thing in 
question which she wished him not to have seen. 

' I had better tell you all about it,' she said. ' A poor 
woman was dying, and we thought they would take her 
away and burn her ; and we wished to give her Christian 
burial. So I ordered a coffin to be made. But they were 
late in making it, and she died before it was ready ; and 
they took her away and burnt her. And then they brought 
the coffin. It was a very good coffin, and I thought it 
would be useful ; so I told them to put it under the bed in 
the guest-room ! You did not see it, did you ? ' Mr. Clark 
no doubt assured her that he had not yet made the dis- 
covery ; and she went on eagerly : ' You must not think I 
kept it for myself ; for I have directed in my will that I 
should be buried without a coffin, and that my funeral 
expenses must not exceed five rupees.' 

The latter injunction was with a view to lessening 
funeral expenses among Indian Christians generally, 



yje THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

many of them being apt to spend heavily at such times. 
But the whole story is eminently characteristic. Many 
people shrink from the very mention of a coffin, because of 
its associations. Not so Charlotte Tucker ! There was to 
her absolutely no sadness whatever in the thought of death. 
She looked forward to the day of her departure from 
earth as to a day of release from bondage, of an upward 
spring into a new and radiant life. It was a subject to be 
spoken of cheerily, and with a smile. 

What became of the coffin in the end Mr. Clark does 
not say ; but he too speaks, as do others, of her entire 
fearlessness with regard to death. Once, when talking 
of it to him, she quoted impressively the words, used 
long before by her gentle sister, Fanny : ' Whenever, 
wherever, however. He will ! ' 

One time, when Mr. Clark was spending a Sunday at 
Batala with Miss Tucker, she read aloud to him the 31st 
verse of the 40th chapter of Isaiah, and drew attention to 
the fact that the verse had in it instruction and comfort for 
persons of all ages. 

' " They shall mount up with wings as eagles," — that is 
something for our young people ; they are always soaring 
and flying. " They shall run, and not be weary," — that is 
for our middle-aged people ; they run and work on, and 
never seem to tire. And there is something for us old 
people too, — " They shall walk and not faint." We old 
people cannot fly ; we cannot run ; but we can walk, and 
do not faint. And so we all of us renew our strength by 
waiting on the Lord.' 

Mr. Clark, from whom these details have come direct, 
writes also : — 

'On another occasion, she came walking up to me in her genial, brisk 
manner, with a book in her hands, as I entered the room, and said, 
" You will be surprised when I tell you what book I am reading ! 
You know I am a good Churchwoman ; and yet I often like to read 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER Z77 

Spurgeon's sermons. They are full of apt illustrations, and he never 
repeats himself. I find them so useful in my writings ; and I know 
hardly any other work which so much helps me." In her latter years 
she often read Shakespeare, and recommended it to educated Natives, 
who were averse to the study of the Bible. The recitations from 
Shakespeare, at the Prize-giving in the Baring High School in Batala, 
originated with her ; and she thought them very valuable in the 
formation of character. The Prologues in these Prize-givings were, 
I think, till last year all written by her.' 

Not only in later days, but all through her life from 
very childhood, she had delighted in Shakespeare, as we 
have already seen ; and she had a very high opinion of 
the value of Shakespeare in the general education of the 
Indian mind. 

In confirmation of certain words above, spoken by her- 
self, Mr. Clark observes : ' As regards her religious views, 
she was sincerely attached to the Church of England, 
firmly believing that the teaching of the Church of 
England, as set forth in the Book of Common Prayer and 
in the Thirty-nine Articles, is in accordance with the Word 
of God.' Another also, who knew her well, has said : 
' A warm Churchwoman, she would always be ready to see 
the best of those with whom she could not agree on many 
points.' This undoubtedly was the case, — in practice, 
if not always in theory. She was, however, greatly 
opposed to Ritualism, and would be much distressed when 
she came across aught of the kind in her various visits 
to different places. 

The subject recalls involuntarily certain words uttered 
by Bishop French of Lahore, — 'our saintly Bishop,' as 
Miss Tucker called him. When he was at home some 
years ago, and staying at Eastbourne, I happened to 
put to him a question bearing on this matter ; and his 
reply was one not soon to be forgotten. He said : 
' It is no QUESTION OUT THERE OF HiGH ChURCH 

AND Low Church! It is a question simply of 



378 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Christianity and Heathenism ! ' To this wide and 
comprehensive view Charlotte Tucker could not have 
fully subscribed. In her letters, from time to time, though 
not often, the subject crops up, and she expresses her fears 
strongly as to one individual or another. But it is note- 
worthy that when, soon after, she meets with the indi- 
vidual himself, her fears are usually quieted ; and while 
conscious of differences ort certain points, she is yet able 
fully to recognise — and to recognise with delight — real 
devotion of heart and life to the Service of the Master 
Whom she loved. No more unmistakable token can 
well exist of true large-heartedness. There was in her no 
innate love of controversy for its own sake ; and though, 
as might be expected with one of her impulsive tempera- 
ment, she sometimes expressed her views with energy, she 
did not love fighting, nor was she a violent partisan. As 
a general rule, her aim was rather to build up than to 
pull down. 

The years 1884 and 1885 passed in the main quietly, 
marked by no especial events. Work went steadily on as 
usual ; holidays were short as usual ; failure and success 
fluctuated as usual. Miss Tucker's loneliest time in Batala 
was over. Now she not only lived with the family of Mr. 
and Mrs. Weitbrecht, but two other lady Missionaries 
were settled in Batala, helping to carry on the work. Not 
that Charlotte Tucker's toil was lessened thereby. She 
had a less heavy weight of responsibility ; but so far as 
actual work was concerned it could never be overtaken, — 
and it could not have been overtaken by twice or thrice 
the number of workers. Fresh openings were continually 
appearing, continually calling for attention. 

In the hot weather, indeed, she had a taste of her old 
manner of life. Then, when other Europeans were com- 
pelled one after another to flee to the Hills, Miss Tucker 
could safely remain on many weeks longer ; up to a certain 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 379 

point even enjoying the heat. On the whole, however, 
things were altered. Not only were other Europeans in 
Batala most of the year, but a railway had now been com- 
pleted between Amritsar and Batala, bringing all the 
Amritsar friends within a very easy distance. It became 
possible to run over to Batala for a day's visit ; and Miss 
Tucker grew jealously anxious, lest such visitors should in 
any wise hinder her work. ' I have let it be known,' she 
wrote, ' that I do not consider myself off duty till 2 P.M., 
so that if friends come in the morning they visit the house 
and not me. I must try to be firm in this, and make no 
exceptions.' 

A certain little incident of this period may be men- 
tioned. With a new Principal, naturally new plans were 
adopted in the training of the boys ; and Miss Tucker 
did not always at first take kindly to fresh ideas. She 
was now of an age to prefer the old to the new, simply 
because it was the old. Dr. Weitbrecht writes : — 

'In 1885, by way of encouraging muscular exercise in the hot 
weather, I tried the experiment of having the boys taught wrestling 
by a Native athlete. The Auntie was at first inclined to be a 
little shocked at the new development, and would not grace the 
wrestling practice with her presence. One day, as it was going 
on, Mrs. Weitbrecht went to a window overlooking the arena, and 
there found Miss Tucker, stretched on the floor, her head out of 
the low window. In some alarm lest the old lady should have 
fainted, she offered to raise her, but was only met with the reply, 
" Hush ! I 'm looking at the boys." The ladies soon saw they 
were discovered, as a handsome young Pathan looked up with a 
smiling "Salaam."' 

Extracts from the letters of these two years, 1884 and 
1885, must unfortunately, for lack of space, be very limited 
in number. 

''New Year's Day, 1884. — I had a very sore parting with Mera 
Bhatija ; but on that I will not dwell. . . . 

'The last day of 1883 was a very sad one to me ; but I had some 



38o THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

of the little boys in the evening, and amusing them shook me out 
of my melancholy. I awoke early — as usual — on the New Year's 
Day, and sang New Year's hymns. After that I heard unwonted 
music below my window. Good Miss Krapf and three of the Singha 
girls had come to salute the New Year with a holy song. Of course, 
I went to the city after breakfast.' 

TO MISS ' LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'■Jan. 21. 

' I am quite glad that my furniture is so simple. Had I had 
plenty of gimcracks, I might have been a fidgety old maid. As it 
is, there is no harm in having a nursery instead of a drawing-room. 
But I have a nice little drawing-room of my own ; a screened-off 
bit of my fine large sleeping-room. I used it for my classes when 
sweet Margaret was here ; for I think that a married couple should 
not be always having interruptions. This arrangement does nicely 
in the cool weather ; and in the hot weather dear Nellie and her 
babes will be in the Hills. It will be the old arrangement of Auntie 
and one choice nephew, — for Herbert is choice, and kind to my 
Leila's attached godmother.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'Jail. 28, 1884. 

' I feel as if I must have a talk with my Laura to-night ; for my 
spirit feels pensive and my heart tender. The ladies came and 
took tea with us ; and Miss Krapf brought her music. As Herbert 
wanted to see a photo of St. George and Francie, I took my dear 
old album into the drawing-room, which it very seldom enters. 
While the sweet, rich music was going on, I was — yes, sighing over 
my Album. More than twenty of the faces in it no longer of earth ! 

Sweet Mother, Fanny, Henry, Letitia, Aunt E , — oh, so many 

gone before ! Then my Laura looked so like what she did in old 
days. I must not look often over that Album ; it is like my youth 
between two boards. What a changing world ! ' 

''March 26. — I met with a perfectly mad woman in a Hindu 
Zenana. She came and sat down beside me. V. and others 
made me change my seat to another bedstead — the usual seat. I 
did not at first know why, but was soon aware of the cause. The 
poor, afflicted woman put her head right down on my lap. She 
did not seem to be mischievous. It was insanity, not idiotcy.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 381 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'April 22, 1884. 

' Among the little matters which vary our regular life at Batala, 
I may mention almost nightly alarms about robbers. The servants 
have got into a nervous state. ... It is not a comfortable state of 
affairs. . . . The Weitbrechts and I have been putting our heads 
together. I forget which of us suggested the plan which we hope 
may succeed. I sleep in the front room, opposite to the servants' 
house ; so a great tumult naturally awakens me, especially as my 
windows are open for air. The Weitbrechts are more out of the 
way. 

' Herbert is to lend me his revolver, loaded, and we are to take 
care that every one knows that I have the formidable weapon ; but 
no one but ourselves is to know that I would on no account hurt 
any one with it. On the next alarm of robbers, I am to jump up, 
and — fire — at the trees or the stars. The report will probably awake 
Herbert, who has a rifle. Now you see the double use of this 
arrangement. My Ayah may possibly even sleep out-of-doors, if 
she knows that a yell from her may bring a pistol-shot from her 
vigilant Miss Sahiba ; and robbers, if such there be, will doubtless 
dread my prowess, not knowing how peculiarly peaceable I am, 
and that I would prefer being shot myself to shooting another ! 
I am to have a very determined look ; and we have all tutored 
each other not to laugh ! Both Herbert and Nellie have some fun 
in them, but they are to look as grave as judges, as if Miss Sahiba 
were a dead shot ; especially on a very dark night, when there is 
no moon I Have I not spectacles?' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

^ A.pril 22,. 
'Well, my loved sister, if you read my little note to Leila first, 
you will be pleased to hear that the night went over serenely. Even 
my frightened Ayah seems to have slept peacefully under the wing 
of the Buzurg ]Miss Sahiba, armed with a revolver I Would not 
dear Rowland have laughed to see old Auntie learning from Herbert 
how to cock and fire a pistol I I wonder how Nellie kept her 
countenance, when one of the servants expressed a hope that Miss 
Sahiba would give some notice before firing, for fear of a casualty 
to one of the household ; and then wanted to know what would 
happen if Miss Sahiba killed 3. thief! Nellie told the inquirer that 
we English — she was too truthful to say the Miss Sahiba in particular 



382 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

— only aimed at limbs to disable, not at bodies to kill. Nellie knows 
pretty well that, if / aimed at anything, it would be at the stars. 

' I took care to lock up my dangerous weapon before sunrise, 
treating my revolver with great respect. Do you remember that, 
when I was known to be coming out to India as a Missionary, dear, 
kind H. Boswell wanted to make me a present of his pistol ? I 
declined it, as a very unnecessary part of a Missionary's outfit ; but 
I could not help remembering H.'s kindness yesterday. Though I 
never fired Herbert's revolver, yet the rep07't of it — to speak in 
Irish style — had a great effect.' 

''May 3. — O yes, my Laura, love your K.^ The Native is 
affectionate. Indians are not usually considered grateful ; perhaps 
they are not grateful for benefits bestowed through general benevo- 
lence or a sense of duty ; but my impression is that they readily 

respond to a^cction. This is one of the great secrets of 's 

power. ... I was rather amused yesterday, when I was describing 

Philemon's funeral to the dear Pandit of O (K. S.), and had 

said that we went singing towards the grave. " I will not sing at 
your funeral," said he. And then he told me how he had tried to 
sing at dear Margaret's — but it was quite a failure ; he could not 
sing, his heart was much troubled. The Pandit is a lovable man ; 
and he loves.' 

' May 8, 1884. {Her Birthday. ) 

'When I came down in the morning before 6 A.M. I found in 
letters of gold on a purple ground over the large front door, " God 
save our beloved Miss Sahiba." I told dear Babu Singha when 
we met, as I walked on towards the city, that I liked the " our." 
He observed that " buzurg " seemed to put me farther away from 
them. I quite agreed. I like "our," which makes me seem like* 
the boys' property. . . . 

' I was surprised in a Zenana to-day by a request for some old 
article of my clothes for a baby, " I wdll give you some new cloth,"' 
said I ; for I make exceptions to my rule of not giving presents to 
Natives in Zenanas, in favour of new babies and brides. But the 
grandfather did not want new cloth at all. He insisted on some- 
thing old. So I humoured him, and looked out on my return home 
for something that I had worn. . . . 

'How^ much I have to be thankful for, my Laura ! I begin my 
Tenth September with a quiet, peaceful feeling. " Oh, how kindly 
hast Thou led me, Heavenly Father, day by day." But the best is 

1 A young Indian Convert in England. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 



j'^j 



to come. " Light after darkness — " Not that my present position 
is darkness ; but there is often weariness, of course.' 

^ May 15. — I can so well enter into the "thought and anxiety" 

caused by , His mind is probably in an effervescing state ; but 

we must trust and pray that, after the froth works down, something 
precious may remain. Young India is at present in a peculiar state ; 

and does not stand alone in his dangerous love for oratory. 

You must expect, love, to see some of the weaknesses of the Native 
character even in those on whom our Blessed Religion has made 
an impression. With the English — Truth, Honour, and a sense of 
Duty are often found even in those not \^ry religious, and it shocks 
and disappoints one to find the want of this kind of moral founda- 
tion in some Natives, whose piety one cannot doubt ! ! "I must 
do my duty," — " Honour bright ! " — are expressions that in this land 
need to be taught. 

'The Native character is a study. We can hardly disconnect 
pious feeling from purity and conscientiousness. One must make 
great allowance for those brought up in a tainted atmosphere. Do 
not be easily discouraged, love. India does turn out some really 
fine fellows ; but a school like this is greatly needed, to begin moral 
tuition early. We want our flowers to have stalks and leaves, and 
not to spread out their petals so close to the earth as to be defiled 

by its dust. Let expand his eloquence in trying to draw ryots ^ 

to Christ. Close contact with really hard evangelistic work, if perse- 
vered in, would probably do much to sober his mind. Let him be 
persuaded that the Baptism of one true Convert, however ignorant 
and poor, is a far higher honour than the plaudits of an English 
audience.' 

''July 3, 1884. — I have had two comical though not very pleasant 
incidents. 

' I sent dear Mrs. Singha as a present what I believed to be a 
bottle of lemon syrup, delicious in hot weather. . . . When next I 
went to the Banyans, Mrs. Singha told me that I had sent her a 
bottle of brandy ! I was astonished, — I, who am virtually a tee- 
totaller ! I could hardly believe it. She produced the bottle ; and, 
sure enough, it was full of brandy. What a villain of a grocer must 
have sold it, thought I, smuggling brandy in this way. . . . "This 
is sure to be trashy brandy," thought I, "which I should not dare 
to give in a case of illness." So, in my indignation, I poured it all 

Country people. 



384 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

out on the grass. I also thought that I would write to good Babu 

at Lahore, who had bought the bottle for me, to tell him of the 
wicked cheat played on him. Most fortunately, I first mentioned 
the matter to Herbert. " Do you not remember," said he, " that when 
we wanted a large bottle, you emptied your brandy into a small 
one?" I had perfectly forgotten the fact. O stupid, most stupid, 
old Auntie ! And I had emptied my bottle on the grass ! 

' The next incident was also a provoking one. You know that I 
have had boils. Well, Herbert said . . . that the best way to stop 
a boil was, at the very first threatening, to put caustic to the place. 
So I bought a bit of caustic, knowing as much about it as I do of 
Hebrew. . . . Just before starting for afternoon Wednesday Service 
in the city, I thought that I had the slightest possible sensation of 
a boil on my nose. " Not a pretty place to have a boil on," thought 
I ; so I took out my wee grey stone, dipped it in water, and applied 
it. It did not burn at all, so I applied it again. Then, seeing a 
black spot, hardly visible except through spectacles, off I went to 
Service. 

' On returning home, to prepare to go out to Miss Hoernle's, 
how surprised — I may say almost shocked — was I, on looking in 
my glass ! A big black smutch on my nose ; another on my chin ; 
and another on my thumb. Washing was of no avail ; salts of 
lemon none ; chloride of lime none ; soap useless I I could not 
help laughing, I was such a figure ; and my Ayah laughed too. 
I determined to give it to Herbert roundly for putting me up to 
make such a fright of myself. ... As soon as I could get hold of 
my naughty nephew, who was playing at lawn tennis as happily as 
if nothing had happened, I scolded him in Miss Hoernle's presence 
as hard as I could, — considering that both of us were laughing. 
At last my wrath blazed into verse : — 

' "You told me it would make me smart, — 
The fear of pain was slight ; 
You have not made me smart at all, — 
You 've made me just a fright ! " ' 

^Jtily 10. — You will like to know that I have managed almost 
entirely to get rid of those spots, which made me think of Lady 
Macbeth, and gave me rather a dislike to the use of caustic ; for 
one does not like to appear as if one never washed either face or 
hands.' 

In November another sorrow came ; the death of Miss 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 385 

Tucker's nephew in Canada, Charles Tucker, whom she 
had visited before starting for India. He was one of her 
' Robins ' of earlier days ; and she felt the loss much. 

It was in the course of 1884 that Miss Tucker related 
to her sister a certain Christian Pandit's dream. His 
wife had long been dangerously ill, and the husband had 
tenderly nursed her. No other Christians lived in the 
village except these two ; and no one but the husband 
had been near the dying woman for many days. 

' I think it was the day before the sufferer's departure,' wrote 
Miss Tucker, 'that the Pandit fell asleep; but as he said, "In 
sleep I was praying." He dreamt that he heard a voice say, " I 
will take her ; she suffers so much ! " Another Voice, which he 
thinks was a Divine one, said, "Wait!" On waking, the Pandit 
went to his wife. She told him that Jesus Christ had stood by her, 
and laid His Hand on her head. "How did you know Him?" 
asked the husband. ''''His Side was redV' Whether the appearance 
was a dream or not, it gave comfort. The sufferer departed at last 
in peace.' 

There is no necessity for any one to believe this, on 
the part of either husband or wife, to have been more 
than a natural dream — a reflex of the state of mind and 
thought previously. At the same time, it is undoubtedly 
possible that help or comfort, whichever was required, 
might be sent through the medium of a dream. Several 
remarkable instances of dreams are mentioned from time 
to time by Miss Tucker in her letters, — occasionally 
vivid enough to decide a Muhammadan on the great 
step of becoming a Christian. There is many a simple 
and natural means by and through which God speaks to 
the heart ; and dreams may sometimes be one of those 
means, — especially in ' Early Church days.' 

One other instance of the kind can be mentioned here, 
while the subject is to the fore. In Charlotte Tucker's 
Journal, some few years later, occurs the following 
2B 



386 777^ LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

singular little entry, when she is describing a visit to a 
certain village : — 

''Aug. 1 6. — J. R. told me dream of Christ, which he had had three 
or four years ago. Indignantly repudiated idea that my pictures 
were like Him Who was so much more beautiful. I read part of 
description of Christ in Rev. i. ; but the old man, with simple 
truthfulness, said that that was for the superior person who had 
written. He was a poor man ; he had only seen the white dress and 
beautiful shining Face. I asked if he had seen it distinctly. "Do I 
see you who are before me?" he replied. "So I saw Him." His 
nephew certified to J. R. having told him of this dream soon after 
having it.' 

It is very probable that the old man might have 
been dwelling on the thought of Christ, consciously or 
unconsciously endeavouring to picture the Divine Form 
to himself; and the dream may have been a perfectly 
natural consequence of his own cogitations. But to say 
that a thing is or may be natural is not to say that it can 
have been in no sense Divinely sent, or that it might not 
bring quickened realisation with it. 

The New Year's Day of 1885 was not altogether cheer- 
ful, despite courageous efforts made, and parties of Indians : 
children in the afternoon, seniors in the evening. Two 
unfortunate Hindus were accidentally drowned in one of 
the large Batala tanks ; happily not that tank which lay 
close to the palace, wherein the schoolboys were wont to 
disport themselves. This naturally threw a shadow over 
the proceedings of the day. 

Early in the year came a letter from the Bishop of 
Lahore to Miss Tucker : — 

''Jail. 10. 

'Dear Friend and Sister in Christ,— May I venture to ask 
if in the little room you may assign me kindly, during my short visit 
to Batala, a little cot may be placed for a brother of mine from New 
Zealand (a brother in Christ also), who is always pleased to chum with 
me, as he does at Bishopstow also, our house being full ? 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 387 

' I am sorry to say my visit must be limited to a sojourn with you 
from Friday, 30th January, to Tuesday, February 3, as the Ajnala 
work hedges me in behind, and Lahore and Amritsar Confirmations 
before, Alay I ask your special prayers, lest this rather overpowering 
crush of work may not impair strength of mind or tone of spirit, both 
of which I have a little reason to dread at this season? It is a com- 
fort to know and to be assured that our Faithful Lord will " stablish 
and keep us from evil." May His peace, and love with faith, be our 
portion; and then in the storm we may sing our watchword, "All 
well." — I am, yours, with ever affectionate and grateful regards, 

'Thomas V. Lahore. 

' Affectionate good wishes to your whole party. 

' This will, alas ! break up my itinerating plan ; not for ever, I 
trust.' 

A fortnight later Miss Tucker wrote to her sister, on 
January 24 : — 

' You will have seen in the paper that our good Bishop has lost his 
daughter. I wrote to him a little note of sympathy which he was 
not to answer ; but he did reply in his own gracious, characteristic 
style. We expect the Bishop here next week for a Confirmation ; 
and he has asked leave to bring a Christian brother from New 
Zealand. Whether the brother be an emigrant or one of the 
aborigines, we know not. We are prepared for either.' 

TO Miss 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'Feb. 4, 1885. 
' The interesting Confirmation took place on Saturday, . . . after 
which we partook of the Holy Communion. I think Herbert said 
that there were 41 Communicants. We never had so many before 
in our chapel. The dear, saintly Bishop left on Tuesday morning.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON, 

'March 28, 1885. 
'You should have seen Ellie and me down on the floor to-day, 
pinning down the dusters for the chess-board. It so happens that 
there is an unusual influx of Native Christian visitors at present — 
R. R., his winsome lady and two daughters, J.'s mother, and S., 
a fledged bird, and these with the numerous Singhas and the Native 
Pastor will make quite a gathering. I rather expect to play badly ; 



388 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

but the great thing is to be quick and dashing, and to move as many 
pieces as possible ; and not to be disturbed by the bursts of laughter 
likely to follow any check given or piece taken. Would you not 
like to be present, — near me ? 

'Well, as I rather expected, I was beaten, though I had the best 
of the game at first. I never heard such noisy pieces of chess as the 
dear brown boys were, when they were first marshalled on the board, 
and had to don their crowns, regal or mural, their mitres and their 
horses' heads. Our Afghan hero, C. C, was a knight, and enjoyed 
himself very much, I think that there was only one piece, or at 
most two, that was not moved.' 

^ Api'il 23, 1885. — My nephew Herbert ... is absent again on 
Mission work. He has heard that there is a spirit of earnest inquiry 
amongst a number of poor low-caste village folk, I think about ten or 
eleven miles from Batala. He has gone to look personally into the 
matter; and if he finds that these lowly peasants are really seeking 
after God, we will try to make some arrangement for their instruction. 
Herbert will see if it be advisable for an English lady and Native 
Bible-woman to go for a short time, and to fix some suitable agent 
(Native) to reside amongst the poor people, and start a school. Of 
course, this involves expense ; but if corn at last be springing up, 
it must not be neglected. It is such a comfort to have one, wise, 
good, and active, like dear Herbert, to look after such matters. . . . 

' If you happen to meet with dear Mrs. W , please tell her that 

her Cross gleams in my room every night. Her pretty straw basket 
is so DiiicJi admired in the zenanas. . . . 

' Our Church-building is growing rapidly under Herbert's auspices. 
The " Mission Plough" too surprises me by its growth. I hear that 
there are 105 boys there now. But we have not a sufficiently strong 
staff of teachers. The Inspector (Government) was pleased with the 
school, but said that we should have a stronger staff. We know 
that too.' 

''May 8. — I saw Miss B. a few days ago. She saw you in 
London, and thought that we resembled each other. " But I hope 
that my sister looks much younger than I do," said I. "Does she 
look twenty years younger.'*" To my satisfaction. Miss B. agreed 
that you did. So my Laura keeps her looks, though not feeling so 
strong as I should wish her to do.' 

'' Jime 22, 1885. ... I must amuse with the following per- 
fectly authe7itic anecdote. There was a nice young couple, as nice 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 389 

as Fred and Maud perhaps, and they had a nice little baby. One 
day the inexperienced Mamma banged the baby's head. Accidents 
will happen, you know, in the best-regulated families. The young 
mother was conscientious ; she felt that she ought to confess the 
banging to the father of the child. With tearful eyes she went to her 
husband, and owned that she had banged her baby's head. Then 
the husband, gaining courage from the brave woman's truthfulness, 
confessed that he had done the very same I he had banged the baby's 
head, but had not liked to own it. The baby does not appear to have 
been the worse for the two bangs ; perhaps they were on opposite 
sides of the little head, and counteracted each other. Still — fathers 
and mothers had better not try the experiment of how much bang- 
ing a baby will bear. Don't you think so, darling .?' 

''July 13. — I was interested in hearing what was said to E. by the 
lad last baptized. ..." I have nearly got through my temptations," 
said he. Of course, I cannot give his exact words, which were in 
Urdu ; but their drift. The lad thought that forty days of temptation 
succeed a convert's Baptism, and said, " I have only eleven left." . . . 
" But do you think that you will never be tempted afterwards .? " asked 
E. Poor B. did not think that, but he thought that the first forty 
days were the worst ; and perhaps he is right.' 

''Nov. 13, 1885. — I think that it will amuse you and my dear god- 
daughter, if I tell you of my first attempt regularly to make a 
marriage, and what were the consequences thereof 

' I had been told by the experienced Native Christian, whom I 
will call M., the proper way to carry on a negotiation. He told 
me long ago that a "Buzurg" (elder) should ask the parents for the 
maid. There being a union which we Missionaries thought suitable 
and desirable, ... I, the most buzurg of all our circle, at the desire 
of the fine young suitor, — whom I will call B., — went in my duli to 
M.'s house, to ask his lovely daughter in marriage for my client. 
I managed to have both parents present, and sent the maiden away. 
It would have been a great breach of etiquette for her to have 
heard me. 

' I felt that I was doing all in proper Oriental style. The parents 
listened ; we talked over the advantages of the union ; and M. and 
his wife were to give me their reply on the following day. 

' But Orientals take their time. I heard nothing on the following 
day ; so on the third I sent my salaam to M. and desired to see him. 
He came, smiled, was highly agreeable, said that he was willing, but 
must consult his brother, etc. 



390 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

' / thought that some one else should be consulted ; namely, the 
young lady. I was going to Amritsar ... so I resolved to have a 
private interview with the maiden, whose future was to be decided 

upon. The lovely — let's call her X. — had returned to ; so there 

I sought her, and had a tete-a-tetc. I wanted to know whether 
she cared for B., whom she had had many opportunities of seeing 
from her childhood. . . . We had almost taken it for granted that 
X. must care for him. 

' Hitherto all had gone pretty smoothly. I had even thought 
what presents I should give, and the Weitbrechts and I had talked 
over the day for the wedding. But an unexpected obstacle arose. 
X. could make no objection to B. ; I do not think that she has a 
thought for any other suitor ; but she does not want to marry at all ! 
" I want to read," she said. " I wish to remain like you ! " 

' This opened our eyes to a peril in the infant Church, of which you 
probably never would dream. Ellie and I set to counting up young 
maidens who are of a suitable age to become brides, — well-educated, 
nice girls, — and came to the conclusion that a kind of fashion is 
setting in not to marry. The Native delights in imitating the 
European. The girls see that most female Missionaries, whom they 
love and honour, are unmarried. They enjoy freedom. . . . Christian 
women are at a premium. Widows are eagerly sought as Bible- 
women. . . . 

' Of course, I would never wish X. to marry one she does not care 
for. I have told her father that the matter is at an end. But he looks 
grave enough, and sees the peril to our Infant Church as clearly as 
we do. If our nice maidens scorn to marry, where are our fine, well- 
educated men to find Christian wives ? How are girls — except in 
very rare cases — to work in zenanas without the care of a husband.'' 
It would be thought improper, hardly safe. 

'"The consequences are" that I have written a little book in 
honour of the holy estate of Matrimony ; which — the new book — has 
had Ellie's approval, and I am sending it to Herbert for his. What 
we want in India are good wives and mothers. No science or litera- 
ture can make up for the lack of such.' 

It was in the summer of this year that Miss Tucker 
mentioned in one letter a curious little scene at the railway 
station. She had gone there to meet a friend, who failed 
to arrive. Two young Native Christians happening to be 
present, and also a young English officer of her acquaint- 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 391 

ance, she brought them together with a kind of half 
introduction. When she had left the station, the officer 
began talking to the two, asking lightly why they had 
left their own religion for another. 'It's all the same,' 
he said. ' Muhammadans, Hindus, Christians, all know 
that there is One God.' This far from brilliant remark 
received an answer which it well deserved. ' If so,' one of 
the Indians replied, 'what difference is there between you, 
us, and the Devil ? ' The train moved on, carrying the 
speaker away ; and no more could be said. But more 
might have weakened the force of the retort. 

A few slight memoranda, contributed by two Native 
Christians, come next. The first are sent by Dr. I. U. 
Nasir, formerly one of the boys in the Baring High School, 
already quoted in an earlier chapter. He speaks of him- 
self as an adopted ' son ' of Miss Tucker's, not, like others 
a ' nephew.' The second set of extracts, which I give last, 
not because they are of inferior interest, but because I wish 
to accentuate one suggestion, by letting it end the chapter, 
are from the Rev. Mian Sadiq, at one time Indian clergy- 
man in Amritsar, and later the same in Batala. 



' Of all the India's sons, especially those with whom she had to 
deal at Batala, it was my privilege to be called her "son." She was 
an "Aunt" to a good many Missionaries, but only did she allow me to 
call her " Mother" ; and she did love me as a true mother. . . . 

' The one thing most noticeable about her was that she was so self- 
denying and humble, considerate for others' feelings, and tender- 
hearted. She would tend the sick with such motherly care ; and if the 
disease was a dangerous one, or infectious, she would insist on sitting 
by the bedside, and not allow others to run the risk of contracting 
the disease. On one occasion a poor, dirty convert was suffering from 
fever, and had no clothes. Miss Tucker gave him her bedding for 
the night, and spent the winter night herself sitting before a fire. 
Above all she hated " I's." I remember only one occasion when 
she desired us to do something for her. She had regular morning 



392 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

and evening walks in the fields ; but getting a little tired sometimes 
of waiting till the Church bell sounded, she wished a small terrace to 
be raised, just sufficient to seat her. A small rude platform was 
raised for her by the side of a babul tree. She may have selected 
that particular spot, because it gave a very picturesque view of the 
" stately palace," with the " tank with lilies blowing " in the fore- 
ground, — now turned into an artificial canal. 

' Her reticence regarding her own life and work was extreme. 
This much I remember from her occasional talks, incidentally dropped 
from her : that she was eight years old when she read Shakespeare ; 
she was eleven when she began to compose ; and at twenty-one she 
sent her first book to press. ^ She wrote to me once how much she 
exulted over her first printed composition. . . . 

' At that advanced age how much she could accomplish in a single 
day was a wonder to everybody. Her vast correspondence, reading 
of books and papers, her literary compositions, her school classes, 
Bible-meetings, various interviews, were so gracefully and naturally 
managed. Still, all these were held in the background, and jealously 
guarded against encroaching upon her Missionary work. . . . 

' She was reading the sermon (Spurgeon's) on Christ's first miracle 
at Cana. She read there that our duty was to fill the jars to the 
brim ; and it was Christ's work to turn them into wine. This led to 
the self-examining question, "Am I filling the jars to the brim } Can 
I not work a little more for Christ than I have hitherto done ? " This 
gave her strength in her feebleness ; and from that day she spent an 
hour more in the zenanas than she used to do. Considering the 
various discouragements she met in her Missionary work, it was no 
small matter to take this step, — and this too at a time when it was 
an effort to walk, not to speak of ascending perpendicular flights of 
stairs in the zenanas. . . . 

' The one thing which was not liked by some people about her was 
that she had an extreme disgust of Natives taking to English dress, 
which she invariably designated " ugly." She regretted on several 
occasions that her age and habits did not allow of her adopting the 
" graceful dopatta " (head cover) in preference to her hat. . . . 

' Her ideas about the burial system were very definite. She would 
take up the thread of St. Paul's argument, and compare the human 
body to a seed of grain, which should be simply buried under the 
earth, and not shut up in a box and placed in the ground. She 
several times expressed her desire to be simply wrapped up in a clean 

1 This is a mistake. She was thirty-one. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 393 

sheet and carried by her boys to the cemetery when her turn came, 
and then laid in the grave as one naturally sleeping.' 

II. 

'During Mr. Baring's absence in England in 1881, one cold night 
Miss Tucker noticed in the Chapel a man shivering with cold. He 
was one of the non-Christian servants of the school. After Service 
she called him, and asked him if he had more clothes. The man 
said " No." He was shivering, as he had fever. She told him to 
wait, and ran upstairs. She came back in a minute with a beautiful 
rug. She told the man she could not give it to him, as it was a 
present from her sister, but she would lend it to him for the night, 
and would buy a country blanket for him the next day. I asked her 
what she was going to do herself. She said she would keep a fire in 
her bedroom, and that would keep her warm. 

' I saw her many times picking up pieces of broken glass or bottles. 
She said poor people who walk barefoot get hurt by these. She has 
known cases in which men suffered for weeks from wounds received 
from these. 

' She was not kind to men only, but to animals. One summer 
morning, as she was coming from the city, after doing her work in 
the Zenanas, she saw a poor donkey with a sore back, troubled by a 
crow. She came home, took a piece of cloth, went to the place where 
she saw the donkey, tied the cloth, and came back and took her 
breakfast. . . . 

' Her example has done a great deal in removing caste feelings 
among Christians. Batala was a place for feasts. In these feasts all 
Christians were invited. She generally sat with low-caste Converts, 
and ate with them. . . . 

' Once for sending a girl to an orphanage she sent for a prospectus 
of the school. In it two warm dresses were put down in the list of 
clothes. ' It is very unreasonable,' she said, ' to require two warm 
dresses.' She had herself only one, and that she had been using for 
the last nine years. Her poem, " What a Missionary Miss Sahiba 
should be," is an embodiment of what she was.' 

One more short sentence from the same source is worthy 
of particular attention : ' When ill, Miss Tucker did not 
like to inform her friends of it, lest her friends should leave 
their work and come to nurse her. She often expressed a 
wish that there were MISSION NURSES, who could attend 



394 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

to the sick Missionaries. Without these, when one got ill, 
others were taken from their work to nurse her.' 

In an earlier chapter it was suggested that some ladies, 
wishing to find a vocation, might offer themselves as 
Honorary helpers to the more regular Missionaries in 
certain lines, among which Nursing was included. Here 
it seems that the same thought had distinctly occurred to 
the mind of Charlotte Tucker. Why should not a little 
Band of Honorary Nurses for India be organised, — Nurses, 
trained and capable, holding themselves ready to go 
wherever their services ma}^ be required by any sick 
Missionary, so that the steady work of other Missionaries 
should not be unnecessarily interrupted by the illness of 
one of their number? The idea is at least worth con- 
sideration, since apparently it would have met with the 
approval of A. L. O. E. 



CHAPTER XIV 

A.D. 1885-1886 
ON THE river's BRINK 

Changes again were impending. Mr. and Mrs. Weit- 
brecht, after two years' work in Batala, were to quit the 
place ; and in their stead would come Mr. and Mrs. 
Corfield, — the former as new Principal of the High School. 
It is singular to note one Missionary after another thus 
coming and going, while Charlotte Tucker, with resolute 
perseverance, held to her post. 

At last she too began to think of a change. Not of 
leaving Batala ; not of going home, for even the shortest 
of furloughs ! Such an idea perhaps never so much as 
occurred to her mind. She simply began to think of 
altering her residence in Batala. At Anarkalli she had 
lived with Miss Swainson, with Mr. and Mrs. Beutel, with 
Natives alone, with Mr. Baring, with Mr. Baring and his 
wife, with Mr. and Mrs Weitbrecht ; and now another 
' upheaval ' had become imminent. 

The notion of a move was apparently at first her own, 
though others soon looked upon it as desirable. Two 
German ladies. Miss Hoernle and Miss Krapf, dwelt to- 
gether in the cosy little Mission Bungalow, which they had 
named ' Sonnenschein ' or ' Sunshine.' No room remained 
for a third inmate ; but Miss Tucker formed a plan of 
building a small annexe to the west of ' Sunshine,' for her 
own use ; and to this tiny annexe she resolved to give the 

name of ' Gurub i Aftab,' or ' Sunset' 

395 



396 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Mrs. Hamilton, on first hearing of the scheme, was 
somewhat distressed at the thought of such a change for 
her ' Char ' ; but Miss Tucker wrote to assure her of no 
move until the new building should be perfectly dry. 
Also a long letter from Mr. Weitbrecht set before Mrs. 
Hamilton, with kind clearness, the advantages of the plan. 
Among other reasons urged was the overcrowded state of 
the palace, where more room for the School was urgently 
needed ; and also the desirability that Miss Tucker, in 
advancing years, should not constantly have to climb a 
steep and awkward staircase, which had of late greatly 
tried her strength. 

It is probable that for some little time past there had 
been a certain failure of power, evidenced by such facts as 
this, though made very little of by herself, and perhaps 
little marked by others, because of her determined cheer- 
fulness and persistence in work. 

Still, as always, she rose at six in winter, and at half- 
past four in summer ; had her little breakfast of cocoa and 
sweet biscuits ; then read and studied till eight. At 8 A.M., 
whether in summer or in winter, she seldom failed to take 
her rapid ' Devotional walk ' out of doors, up and down, 
till summoned to Prayers by the Chapel gong. Then 
came breakfast proper ; after which she would still, as 
always, go out in her duli for three or four hours of 
Zenana-visiting. Next followed correspondence; lunch; 
classes of English history and English literature for the 
elder boys ; then afternoon tea ; then sometimes more 
reading of a Native language, and visiting of Native 
Christians. This was the manner of day that she spent, 
week in, week out, month after month, often for ten or 
eleven months at a stretch ; varied only by itinerating 
expeditions into neighbouring villages, or an occasional 
trip to Amritsar, — the latter seldom, except on business of 
some kind. And she had been living this life now for 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 397 

at least eight or nine years ! Small wonder that a break- 
down should come at last. The marvel was that it had 
not come sooner. A chill and a bad smell were the imme- 
diate cause, — they usually are in such cases, acting upon 
exhausted powers. 

Up to Thursday, December lo, things were much as 
usual. That morning she went on her ordinary city 
round, and then to a Native wedding, where she was very 
much tried by a bad smell from a drain, though her innate 
courtesy would not allow her to hurry away. On reaching 
home she was in a chilled and shivering condition, with 
the beginning of a sore throat. In the afternoon fever and 
drowsiness came on. 

For a day or two there seemed to be an improvement. 
Mrs. Weitbrecht, who was to have left Batala before Sunday, 
on account of health, deferred her journey until Monday. 

Nothing could induce Miss Tucker to remain at home 
on Saturday. She started as usual for the city ; and on 
her return she told Mrs. Weitbrecht ' how glad she was to 
have gone,' adding, ' I am always especially glad when I go 
to the city, feeling it a little effort to do so.' One is dis- 
posed to imagine that it must have been more than a little 
effort, on that particular day ; and the words contain a 
revelation as to past ' efforts' when unfit for the work which 
she never would neglect. Dr. H. M. Clark had been asked 
to come over, but she utterly declined to see him, except as 
a friend, refusing to consider herself ill. On Sunday she 
was at both the Church Services, ' kept up,' as Mr. Bateman 
said, ' by her indomitable spirit ' ; and in the afternoon she 
had, as always, her Class of boys. On Monday morning 
she made her appearance early, to see Mrs. Weitbrecht 
off, — very bright and cheery, wrapping up sandwiches, 
and determinedly hiding how ill she really felt, for fear 
Mrs. Weitbrecht's departure should be again delayed. 

Things could not sfo on thus much loneer. Miss Tucker 



398 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

had made a brave fight, — too brave for her own good !— 
but ilhiess was now fast gaining the upper hand. She did 
not again attempt city visiting, — a sure sign of her con- 
dition ; and much time that day was spent in a half-doze. 
Towards night she became Hght-headed, and was so weak 
that they had to carry her to bed. Miss Hoernle decided 
to sleep at the palace, so as to be within easy call if needed ; 
but in the early morning she found her patient up, writing 
a letter, and of course avowing herself ' better.' The 
improvement, if it existed, was very brief Fever again 
set in, with weakness and delirium ; and Dr. H. M. Clark 
was sent for. On Tuesday Mr. Clark came too, and that 
evening he sent for Miss Wauton to go over from Amritsar 
on Wednesday morning. Mr. Rowland Bateman also was 
speedily on the spot. Somewhat later in the week a 
telegram summoned A. L. O. E.'s nephew and niece. Major 
Louis Tucker and Mrs. Tucker. 

For three days the greatest possible anxiety was felt ; 
and on the Thursday another medical man was telegraphed 
for, that a consultation might take place. The result of the 
consultation was not favourable. Dr. P. on first seeing Miss 
Tucker thought she might live a week, but when going away 
he expressed a fear that half that time would see the end. 

Both before and after Dr. P.'s coming there was exces- 
sive restlessness, and a great deal of delirium, though the 
latter was never of a painful kind, and she always knew 
those who were about her. She was at times extremely 
anxious to get up, and she showed vexation at not being 
allowed to do so. Once, when thus controlled, she said to 
Mr. Weitbrecht with respect to her nurses : 

' Couldn't you take them to see the Church ? ' 

' But, Auntie dear, we have seen the Church already,' 
they assured her. 

' Then take them somewhere else,' she said, — ' only take 
them a long ivay off I ' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 399 

This evidently remained on her mind ; for the next day 
she began to talk about the Salvation Army, and the 
doctrine of Perfection in this life, as taught by its devotees. 

' It is a doctrine of the devil,' she said emphatically. 

' Tell that I had an outbreak of anger and petulance 

only yesterday. I wanted to go to my own room, and I 
was quite cross when they would not let me. I think the 
Lord let that be, that we might see how weak and sinful 
we are. I am sixty-four years old, — and they who are so 
much younger than I am would not let me get up ! They 
treated me just as if I were a child ; and I could not bear 
to be made into a little child ; and so the Lord put me 
down. These doctrines are the snare of the devil. They 
make presumptuous people more presumptuous ; and they 
are calculated to drive conscientious people madr The 
last words were repeated ; and Miss Tucker went on to 
mention two cases, known to herself, where individuals had 
become actually insane through ' perfectionist ' teaching. 

She talked in her delirium almost incessantly, showing 
extreme mental activity, an activity which never failed, even 
when exhaustion was greatest. She dictated letters ; she 
composed verses and comic parodies ; she repeated texts 
and long sentences in Hindustani ; she sang with animation 
a cricket-song for the boys, and then a hymn in Hindu- 
stani or English. Sometimes her drollery was so intense 
that her nurses, in all their anxiety, shook with laughter 
to hear the things she said. And all through, from begin- 
ning to end, one thing never failed, — her radiant happiness 
in the thought of going Home. 

While recognising those who were really present, she 
fancied that others were there also, and talked to them. 
Generally she could reason quietly about these ap- 
pearances, saying that she knew they were ' shadows.' 
She does not seem to have felt thus about the evil spirits, 
which she thought she saw. She pointed to where she 



400 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

believed them to be, asking, ' Do you see them ? ' Then 
addressing the spirits, she continued : ' I am not afraid of 
you ! You can do nothing to me ! I belong to Jesus ! 
Don't sit there, at the foot of my bed. Go away ; you 
cannot touch me ! ' 

The strong doses of quinine made her very deaf, so that 
she could hear little of what went on around her bed ; but 
she heard what others could not hear, — sounds of music 
filling the room. 

Sometimes she imagined herself to be in Zenanas, 
talking to the Bibis, and pleading earnestly with them. 
Or again she wondered why her kahars did not come to 
take her thither. 

' What to me was most remarkable,' wrote Mr. Clark 
afterwards, * was her perfect cheerfulness and happiness ; 
thinking of everything and every one around her, and talk- 
ing of the most common things, and doing it all in the 
light of Eternity ; standing on the very brink of another 
world, and yet forgetting nothing, but thinking of almost 
everything in this. ... It was at times even amusing, for 
there was no sadness in her perpetual sunshine.' 

On Friday morning, the day after the consultation. Miss 
Tucker woke very early, and asked to have her desk, that 
she might write. This of course could not be allowed. 
Later in the same day Mr. Weitbrecht went in to see her, 
just after an interview with Dr. Clark, and she inquired, 
' What does the doctor say ? ' 

Mr. W^eitbrecht endeavoured to avoid giving any direct 
reply, speaking only of one symptom which the Doctor 
had named as encouraging. Then came the point-blank 
question : 

' Yes ; but does he think I shall die, or recover ? ' 

' He cannot tell' 

Miss Tucker was not to be so put off. An answer she 
would have. ' I am very deaf with the quinine,' she said. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 401 

' I can't hear what you sa}'. If he thinks I shall stay, do 
this ! ' — holding up her hand ; — ' and if sinking, this ! ' — 
dropping it. 

There was no choice left. Truth compelled Mr. Weit- 
brecht to lovv'er gently his hand. ' Whereupon,' as I\Ir. 
Bateman relates, ' a smile and an almost shout of joy 
escaped her.' 

* I am so glad ! ' she exclaimed. ' So glad to be dying in 
harness ! And to think that I shall be no trouble to any- 
body I ... It is too good to be true, that I am going 
Home. . . . The bowl is broken at the fountain ! ' Then 
she repeated the simple verse beginning, 

' " And when I 'm to die, 
Receive me, I "11 cry, 
For Jesus has loved me, 
I cannot tell why !"' 

What Charlotte Tucker experienced, on seeing that 
lowered hand, may be to some extent realised by reading 
her ' Dream ' of the Second Advent, given in an earlier 
chapter. Heaven to her was ' Home ' ; many of her 
nearest and dearest were already in Paradise ; and ' death,' 
so called, would mean re-union with those dear ones. 
Charlotte Tucker could from her very heart re-echo the 
poet's words, — with a most practical belief in them, — 
' There is no Death ; what seems so is Transition.' During 
years past she had longed for this Transition ; striving only 
not to be impatient, but to await cheerfully God's own time. 

And now, it seemed, she was to go ! Not only to leave 
sin and sorrow behind ; not only^ to be young and strong 
again ; not only to see such beauty and glory as our Earth 
can never show ; not only to ' mount up with wings, as 
eagles,' into splendid new spheres of knowledge and thought, 
of employment and work. All these things, though real, 
were secondary'. The overwhelming delight of going Home, 
whether by the Coming of Christ, or through the ' grave 
2C 



402 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

and gate of Death,' was that she would meet her Lord and 
Master face to face ! That was the grand expectation 
which thrilled her whole being, which drew from her an 
' almost shout ' of joy, even in extreme weakness, — the 
prospect of seeing Him, 'Whom, not having seen,' she loved. 

So intense was the joy that it had a remarkable result. 
It appeared to take the same effect as a powerful stimulant 
upon her sinking strength. The very delight which she 
had in dying brought her back to life ; the very rapture 
with which she desired to go kept her from going. 

It is not needful to suppose that this alone saved her 
life. Skilled physicians and devoted nurses had done and 
were doing their utmost ; and a fresh remedy was being 
tried, which brought down the very high fever. But the 
fact remains the same, that, until Charlotte Tucker was 
told that she would die, hopes of her recovery had been 
given up, at all events by those best qualified to judge ; 
and that, from the time when she learned the verdict of the 
doctors, she began to revive. At the least we must allow 
that the stimulant afforded by this eager rejoicing was a 
marked assistance to other remedies ; and that, without it, 
in all probability she might have sunk. 

Nor need it be imagined that she was immediately out 
of danger. Improvement was very gradual, and anxiety 
lasted long. Weeks later she spoke of her own life as 
having been on Christmas Day still ' trembling in the 
balance,' and this was nearly a week before Christmas. 
But hope had revived, and every day it grew stronger. 

Having once made up her mind that she was to die, it 
was, we may be sure, no easy matter for Charlotte Tucker 
to turn her mind earthward again. ' She dwelt on the 
thought continually,' wrote one of her nurses afterwards ; 
and another friend said in a letter home, at the time, 
' She is deaf to any suggestion of possible recovery.' 

Full directions were given as to presents which she 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 403 

wished to have sent to relatives and friends after her 
departure ; and many messages also, expressive of intense 
delight in the prospect which she believed to lie before her. 
She was very particular as to her funeral. ' I wish no one 
to wear black for me,' she said. ' My funeral must not 
cost more than five rupees. No coffin ; only a plank to 
keep the body straight. You must make a recess in the 
grave, so that the earth may not fall on my face. No one 
must carry me but my dear Christian boys.' 

Then she would believe herself to be in a Zenana once 
more, and she was giving a farewell address in Hindustani 
to all her Bibis. In the midst of such a serious exhorta- 
tion would come in quotations from Shakespeare, or odd 
little remarks about her food, making it impossible for 
others not to smile, as the active mind passed rapidly 
from one subject to another. But still her radiant ex- 
pectation and rejoicing never faltered. 

' What a happy thing it is to have conquered ! ' she said 
once, — ' and to know that I have a crown of glory awaiting 
me above ! What happiness ! But I know I have no 
righteousness of my own. No one has that ! My trust is 
in the Blood of Christ alone ! " The Blood of Jesus Christ 
cleanseth us from all sin." ' 

Repeatedly she remarked how ' happy she was, dying in 
harness, — just as she had wished ! ' And again : ' I want 
to go. You must not pray for my recovery. The Doctor 
says I 'm worse, doesn't he ? ' And again : ' If the Ladies of 
the Committee knew what a wreck I am, they would be glad 
that I am going now. I cannot do any more work ; but 
tell them that I depart in the full, glad hope of Eternal 
Life, through Jesus Christ only ! His precious Blood 
only ! . . . " Nothing in my hand I bring ; simply to Thy 
Cross I cling !"...! am almost surprised at my ever 
coming out to be a Missionary. I was so very ignorant ! 
A Missionary needs very great humility.' 



404 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

At another time she asked : ' How long is it likely to 
last ? My sister will be quite happy about me, now that I 
have completed my tenth year of Missionary service.' 

But near as Charlotte Tucker drew to the Gate of 
Death, which to her was the Gate of Life, she was only 
allowed one glimpse inside ; and then she had to turn 
back into the wilderness of Earth once more. It makes 
one think of the Pandit's dream beside his dying wife. A 
' voice ' might well have said, with angelic pity, of Charlotte 
Tucker, ' She longs so to come ! I will take her ! ' But 
if so, it would seem that the Divine Voice softly interposed, 
' WAIT ! ' Her hour of Rest was not yet reached. She 
was not very much more than half-way through her toil- 
some Indian campaign. Ten years of work lay behind. 
Eight years of work stretched ahead. This was but the 
Rehearsal of the real Home-going. 

By Saturday morning there was so far a distinct im- 
provement that Mr. Clark felt himself able to return 
to Amritsar. Miss Tucker still counted herself dying ; 
and her last words to Mr. Clark were, ' Give to our dear 
and honoured Bishop my affectionate adieux \ ' 

When Christmas Day arrived, though not yet out of 
danger, she was allowed to see all her Batala friends who 
could come, including the boys of the School, — no doubt 
a mere passing glimpse of each. Much warm interest had 
been shown by the people of the city, as well as by the 
Christians who so well knew and loved her. Before 
Christmas Day, however, Miss Tucker seems to have 
accepted the fact that, so far as could be seen, she had 
not yet fought out her battle, had not yet to exchange 
Cross for Crown. So early as the 2ist of December 
Miss Wauton wrote to Mrs. Hamilton : — 

' I don't think she will ever attempt so much active work again 
amongst the people ; but she said to me this morning, " Though I 
shall probably not be able to do much amongst them, I can still /ove 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 405 

them I " Darling Auntie I hoiu every one does love and honour her 1 
This week has sho\vn more than ever how she lives in the hearts of 
those for whom she is spending her life ; and how dear she is to a 
very, very wide circle of friends, as well as to her relations. The 
boys have been as quiet as mice all the time she was ill ; and the only 
sounds that reached her room were their voices practising the Christ- 
mas hymns, which she was delighted with, and fancied she heard 
them nearly all through the night, long after they were all in bed.' 

On December 28th Charlotte Tucker was able to dic- 
tate a letter to ^Irs. Hamilton : — 

' My precious Laura, — I have been in deep waters, but I rather 
think I shall swim. I cannot tell you what I owe to the splendid 

nursing of and . You couldn't have nursed me more devotedly 

and tenderly yourself Neither you nor I will ever forget it. . . . 

' I 've a noise going on for ever in my ears ; but my mind has been 
clear all through. The hard thing was not to be able to pray for 
what I wished. I should so have liked to depart and be with Jesus ; 
but it didn't seem God's Will ; and His Will must be best. I tried 
to ask for patience and resignation. Good-bye, darling. . . .' 

Loving messages to many friends are included in this 
letter ; and she also mentions having received on Christ- 
mas Day ' Communion for the Dying,' — though apparently 
she was then not really counted to be dying. How- 
ever, unless she misunderstood her doctor, he was not 
even then hopeful to any great extent. Probably her 
own recollections were a good deal more confused than 
she was at all aware of. 

It is not a little remarkable that, after all this, she 
should in letters written somewhat later quietly and 
decidedly assert that she had not reckoned herself to be 
dying, but had fully expected to get well ! The explana- 
tion is, most likely, that her strong desire to pass away 
was so dominant a feeling as to entirely push into the 
background a consciousness that she would recover. At 
the time she doubtless refused to listen to the voice of this 
consciousness ; but afterwards it would naturally recur to 
memory, — possibly in a somewhat exaggerated form. 



4o6 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

As soon as she was sufficiently improved for the move 
to be practicable, she was taken to Amritsar, — being lifted 
into her duli, which travelled by train, so that she was 
spared any further changes. At Amritsar she was within 
easy reach of her Doctor ; also she could be better nursed 
and cared for there than in such an out-of-the-way place 
as Batala, where personal comforts were few. Letters 
early in 1886 naturally contain a good deal about her 
illness. 

' Batala, Ja7i. 2. — My darling Laura, the last time the Doctor 
came, I said to him, "Doctor, you're winning the game of chess." 
He said, "You've been as bad as you could be ; but, under God, you 
owe your life to the excellent nursing." . . . My sweet ladies watch 
me day and night, and seem to think it fun. ... I think in England 
we add to the miseries of sickness by looking so anxious and grave. 
Then, another thing, love, is this ; don't shut out friends, for fear 
they should tire the patient. On Christmas Day, when my life was 
literally trembling in the balance, I must have seen more than a 
hundred, and they didn't do me a bit of harm. . . . Good-bye, darling. 
Please give all sorts of kind messages to dear Leila and your other 
dear ones, and every one who loves me. . . . 

' Please pray for patience. That is the lesson I have to learn. 
" Be still, and know that I am God." " O rest in the Lord, and wait 
patiently for Him." I mustn't think even much about Heaven ! I 
mustn't be hke a soldier pining to get home, when he's told to keep 
quiet in the trenches.' 

It is impossible not to remember Archbishop Trench's 
couplet : — 

' Some are resigned to go ; might we such grace attain. 
That we should need our resignation to remain !' 

' Amritsar, /<2;2. 11, 1886. — I hope that my telegram arrived before 
the news that would trouble you. The doctor pronounced me " out 
of danger" last Friday, the 8th ; so I almost immediately thought of 
sending a telegram. Now I 'm going to make a little confession of ex- 
aggeration. I told you that I saw more than one hundred people on 
Christmas Day. Babu Singha told me that there were only eighty-four 
at the feast ; so, as babies count at the feast and didn't come up to me, 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 407 

I probably didn't see more than seventy. I questioned the doctor a 
little time ago as to the influx of visitors ; and he only told me, that, 
as he thought I was sure to die, it didn't matter whom I saw. But / 
didn't think I was going to die ; and you see I was right. . . .' 

'Amritsar, Ja7i. 18. — Thanks were publicly returned in Amritsar 
Church yesterday for the recovery of your Char. " Bless the Lord, 
O my soul ; forget not all His benefits." ... I am floating in a sea of 
delight, and shall certainly look back to this time of terrible illness as 
one of the happiest periods of my life. I am as happy as a Queen. 
A great deal happier than the Queen ! One of the images that most 
frequently rises before my mind, in prayerful thought, is that of our 
own beloved Queen. There is something so grand and pathetic in 
that image, as our Sovereign Lady sits with her hand on the helm, 
solitary at her post of duty, with a revolutionary storm howling and 
shrieking around her. The Lord shield her head ; strengthen her 
hands ; give her increasing grace and wisdom ; and grant her the 
victory over all her enemies. 

' I think it would gratify Her Majesty were she to know her 
personal influence amongst the Women of India. In zenana or mud- 
village, " Malika Muazima Kaiser-i-Hind" — I generally give our 
Sovereign her full title among the Orientals, though I love "our own 
dear Queen" much better ! — is an object of interest. ... Of course, 
we inculcate loyalty among our Native Christians, in our Boarding 
School at Batala. One of the first things that would strike the eye of a 
visitor is " God save the Queen," — hung up in the schoolroom. . . . 
It would please Her Majesty, could she hear our Christian boys 
singing : 

' ' ' Let the world know, 
Be it friend or foe, 
We '11 be true to our Faith and our Queen ! " 

The Hindus and Muhammadans might fail us should a storm arise ; 
the Atheists would be our bitter foes. I believe that many of our 
noble Christians would be Faithful unto Death. . . . 

' I have had two such extraordinary attacks of malarious fever. . . . 
For three days and nights, and more, I never slept for a moment. 
My mind was sometimes carried, at other times goaded, in unnatural 
activity. I had a torrent of thought, which I could not stop ; the 
first week is to me almost a blank. . . . Dr. P. knew nothing of me, 
nor what a comically allegorical mind I have. I remember nothing 
of our interview, but it must have been inexpressibly funny. . . .' 



4o8 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Letters thus far were only dictated. On January 20 is 
one in her own handwriting, very feeble and shaky: — 

' . . . One does learn such lessons, when lying still for weeks and 
weeks, with nothing to do but think. For instance, I remember 
grievous sins of omission, which I have never thought of before. . . . 
The duty of Intercessory prayer opens out before me. Of course, I 
have always prayed for you, love, and a great many more ; no danger 
of forgetting. But I have forgotten numbers.' 

In a circular letter to English friends, dated January 25, 
she again and more emphatically asserts her own non- 
expectation of death during the late illness : ' On the 
worst day I talked Urdu, nothing else, from morning till 
night, to imaginary bibis. Almost every one thought me 
dying, except myself ! ... I asked the dear, kind, skilful 
doctor of my state ; he did not know what to say, for he 
thought me sinking. I asked dear Mr. Weitbrecht, and he 
pointed his finger straight downwards. I quite understood, 
but did not believe myself dying for all that ! ' This cer- 
tainly was not the impression of those around her at the 
time, nor is it borne out by the things she said. No doubt 
she was striving to believe what she longed for, — was 
hoping that the doctors' opinion, and not her own inner 
sense, might prove to be right. 

Miss Tucker's ' horror of alcohol ' is particularly noted 
by Mr. Clark. When getting better, she one day re- 
marked to him, * What a dear, good doctor Dr. Clark is ! 
He has brought me through it all, without giving me any 
spirits.' Then, turning to one of her nurses, ' Isn't it so, 
dear?' A judicious answer was returned: 'The doctor 
gave you just the right medicine, and you were very good 
in taking it' A little later, when having another dose of 
medicine, she said again, ' Are you sure there is no 
alcohol in it ? ' ' It is what the doctor has ordered for you, 
Auntie dear. You must just take it, and ask no questions.' 
As letters show, it was not till February that she learned 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 409 

the true state of the case, which was that she had been 
kept alive by small doses of stimulant every hour. The 
strongest brandy had tasted to her like water. As soon as 
Miss Tucker understood how matters had been, she wrote 
to her sister, to say : — 

' I made a great mistake in my letters home. If from them you 
have given to others a wrong impression, please kindly correct it 
when opportunity occurs. I wrote that I had had no stimulant in my 
illness. I thought that I had not ; but I find that I was utterly 
wrong. I was kept from sinking, not only by quantities of quinine, 
but brandy also. It was strange that I should not have recognised 
it ; but it was always mixed with something else.' 

So steady now was the improvement in her health, that 
before the middle of February she was able to get out for 
drives ; on the 14th she went to Church ; and by the i8th 
she was back again in ' dear Batala,' — not at the old 
palace, but in the Mission Bungalow, ' Sonnenschein,' with 
Miss Hoernle. A crowd of boys welcomed her at the 
Railway Station, on her arrival ; and next day a grand 
Batala feast was given in her honour. 



CHAPTER XV 

A.D. 1886-1887 

IN HARNESS ONCE MORE 

So severe an illness could not fail to leave traces ; and 
Charlotte Tucker came out of it more distinctly an old 
lady than she had ever been before. Ten years of per- 
petual toil had used up a large amount of even her 
superabundant vitality ; and she could not expect to be 
again fully what she had been, either as to vigour or 
powers of endurance. 

But although strength did not return quickly, and work 
had to be very slowly resumed, her interest in all that 
concerned Batala was as vivid as ever. The letters of 
1886 are full of details about various High School boys, — 
either those who had been or those who still were scholars 
Letters to Mrs. Hamilton were as long as ever, — longer 
indeed than in times of greater work-pressure, — and the 
shaky hand soon regained its firmness. 

Immediately after her return to Batala, she wrote as to 
work generally : — 

' O, there have been such stirring times in our Panjab Mission 
field lately ! On one side, or rather various sides, the poor, low- 
caste people are joyfully receiving the Gospel. One hears of them 
listening, with tears running down their brown cheeks. Dear Miss 
Hoernle, my chum, is off to Futteyghur, with a new Bible-woman 
specially for the poor peasants. There, after due extwiination^ Mr. 
Weitbrecht has baptized whole families, — fifty-six individuals, — and 
I shall probably hear of many more when Miss Hoernle returns. . . . 

410 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 411 

All this is comparatively smooth, for people do not flare up at poor 
people being saved ; but there has been desperate fighting over dear 
lads of good family ; prosecution, persecution, pelting, lying, hand- 
to-hand struggling ; even our chivalrous Missionary^, Mr. Bateman, 
always ready to be foremost in the fight, owns that he has never had 
such a hard case as the last. The dear Convert, not yet baptized, 
refused an offer of 10,000 rupees down and 40,000 in reversion, rather 
than give up Christ. . . .' 

Many other particulars, too long to quote, follow. 

The 4th of IMarch was to be, as she wrote, ' a very 
great day here ; the greatest Batala has ever known ! 
Our Church is to be consecrated ; and Christians will 
gather from far and near. One of the most interesting 
features of the occasion will be, I trust, the presence of 
converts. ... I believe that many of them will gladly 
walk fifteen miles to be present. One said, in regard to 
their dress, which is, as you may suppose, of a very rough 
kind, " We will come in clean clothes, if it take us four 
days to wash them ! " ' The last few words were in 
allusion to very poor village converts. 

A letter to a little great-nephew, the day after the 
Consecration, gave some particulars : — 

' We had a very grand day in Batala yesterday. The Bishop 
came to open our fine new Church. A great many ladies and 
gentlemen came also. There were two meat meals for them ; we sat 
down about thirty-four. But one of the most interesting things was 
that a good many poor men and boys, whom dear Mr. Weitbrecht 
had baptized in the villages, came too. Now, some people are 
proud enough to scorn these poor men, because they are of the low 

Mihtar caste. But, you know, my T , that there is plenty of 

room in Heaven for Mihtars ; and when they shine in white 
garments and crowns no one will despise them then. We thought 
that it would be a good thing to eat a little with the poor men, to 
show that we do not scorn them. . . . r^Ir. Bateman, Mrs. Weitbrecht, 
and I sat down on the straw, where the poor folk were eating their 
dinner, and ate some too. I own that I did not eat much, — I had 
had the two meat meals already ! . . . 

' Our Church looked very nice. We had to lend three mats for it ; 



412 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

and other things were lent also. . . . But three beautiful cushions 
were not lent. Dear Aunt Mina, her Wilhelmina, and Cousin Laura 
worked them years ago for our Church. We took great care of 
them, and they look in fine condition.' 

The Church of the Epiphany at Batala, consecrated 
on March 4, 1886, by the Bishop of Lahore, is described as 
being ' of brick, plastered with lime. The style chosen 
is that of the Mogul period, adapted to the requirements 
of a Christian Church. The Church at present consists of 
a nave, with clerestory windows, chancel, and porch. Two 
side-aisles remain to be added. The present accommoda- 
tion is 200 ; when completed it will be about 500. The 
Church is situated near the chief gate of Batala, on the 
road leading to the railway.' 

Then came the parting with the Weitbrechts ; a sor- 
rowful matter, after two years together under the same 
roof Miss Tucker, though still far from strong, was 
sufficiently recovered to travel with them as far as to 
Delhi, where she paid a short visit to a widowed niece. 
While there, on March 18, she wrote : — 

'Here am I, in the famous old city of Delhi, long the capital of 
India ; but I go about to see none of its many sights. . . . The 
dear Weitbrechts and I lunched with the Cambridge Mission 
yesterday. A fine set of Missionaries, whom one is glad to have 
met. I was invited to dine also, I fancy, but I did not care to have 
my parting at a dinner-party. I returned here ; and dear Herbert 
came at past 9 a.m. just to bid me farewell. It was very kind in 
him. We were alone in the verandah ; and the parting was almost 
like that between son and mother. . . . 

'There is an interesting young Missionary here, Mr. Maitland of 
the S.P.G. He has been almost at death's door, and now appears 
much in the same state as I was in Amritsar six or seven weeks ago, 
coddled and taken care of He wanted me to come and take a cup 
of tea with him, which I did most willingly ; and we had a good chat 
together. Invalids like visitors, I think. I know that I did. . . . 

' i2nds — O, my Laura, have you actually been sending 7nore money, 
to meet the expenses of my illness ? I do not know what to say or 
how to thank you. You must indeed stop overwhelming your Char !' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 413 

A very troublesome horse, who broke his harness and 
refused to be controlled, was named by her ' Buzdil,' or 
' Coward.' * / never attempted to drive,' she observed in 
an April letter, ' but exhorted him, when I was beside 
Maria ; but he never minded what I said.' Then came 
some ' rough lines,' adapted to an old Scotch air, ' He 's a 
terrible man, John Tod, John Tod ! ' 

' He's a terrible horse, Buzdil, Buzdil, 
He 's a terrible horse, Buzdil ! 
He gives start and skip, 
Fears all — but the whip. 
And cares not a straw for our will ! 

'He's broken his harness, Buzdil, Buzdil, 
He's broken his harness, Buzdil ! 
He 'd plunge in a hedge. 
Or back on a ledge, 
But when urged to go on — he stood still ! 

' He puzzles his syce, Buzdil, Buzdil, 
He worries his syce, Buzdil ! 
If you take my advice, 
He'll be sold in a trice, 
Ere our poor Mission ladies he kill ! ' 

Miss Tucker planned starting ' a very sober, safe kind of 
vehicle ' to carry to Church those who could not or might 
not walk so far, even in cold weather. It was to be a 
cart, with a cover to ward off the heat of the sun, and 
was to be drawn by bullocks, —a humble conveyance, 
which fact was no trouble at all to the mind of Charlotte 
Tucker. The more humble, the better fitted in her esti- 
mation for a Mission Miss Sahiba ! 

In June she went for a complete change to Murree, and 
was soon able, while there, to speak of herself as being 
decidedly stronger, ' able without injury to walk twice to 
Church and back,' despite a tough hill on the way. 



414 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

One friend, Mrs. Rowland Bateman, meeting her at this 
time, wrote afterwards : — 

' It was so very delightful to see her dear face again, and so nice 
to get her warm and loving welcome. You know what "pretty" 
things she says ; so on this occasion she said, " I came (to the 
station) for silver, and I found gold ! " Very pretty, was it not ? 
And now let me tell how I thought her looking. It is five years 
since I saw her ; so of course I saw a good deal of change. She is 
looking very much older ; but she is as bright as ever, cracking 
jokes, and making us all laugh. Then of course, since her illness, 
she is very thin, and that makes her face look older than she would 
do, were she a little stouter. And she eats more than she used to 
do. Five years ago she hardly ate enough to keep a sparrow alive. 
. . . Another thing I was very glad of, and that was that she does 
not attempt to do so much. She gives herself time to rest,' 

In July Miss Tucker welcomed with eager pleasure a 
present from her sister of an ' excellent likeness ' of the 
Queen. Charlotte Tucker's love for Her Majesty went 
far beyond ordinary loyalty. It was more of the nature 
of a personal romantic passion. 

By the middle of August she was at work again. 
Mr. Weitbrecht was now gone, and Mr. Corfield had been 
seriously ill ; so once more the School was for some time 
without a Principal on the spot. Many of the boys did 
not return to their homes for the holidays ; indeed, some 
young converts literally had no homes to go to. A. L. O. E. 
therefore exercised her powers to find interests and 
amusements for them. About this time also she started 
Shakespeare readings in Batala, of which she says : — 

''Aug. II. — Perhaps I told you that I had begun Shakespeare 
readings. I had five readings of Henry viii., with fair success ; so 
I thought that I would begin Macbeth., which I think the most 
striking of all Shakespeare's dramas. But it was a dead failure 
here ! The Natives could not understand it ; and those who came 
to the first reading were no7i inventus at the — what would have been 
the second reading. So I have changed my book, and intend to-day 
to begin to read aloud my Laura's capital present, the particularly 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 415 

amusing Life of Buckland. Fish instead of furies ! — salmon instead 
of slaughter ! ' 

From many letters it may be seen that she was soon in 
a steady swing again, both with Zenana and with Village 
visiting ; but the amount attempted seems to have been 
more moderate than formerly. Few quotations must 
suffice : — 

''Oct. 15, 1886. — Now I will tell you about a visit which I paid 
yesterday to a Zenana, where the Bibi used to be very bigoted. 
Yesterday I came on her husband, a grave, middle-aged man. So 
he heard what I had to say. Then he asked me to give him a 
picture of Christ. Very strict Muhammadans object to pictures ; 
but he wanted one of the Saviour. I, as a rule, never give pictures, 
though I show them ; but I happened to have three small pictures, 
cut out from periodicals, — not coloured, — and I felt impelled to grant 
the grave man's request. I let him choose. He took the copy of 
the famous picture — is it not Leonardo da Vinci's ? — of the Blessed 
One, crowned with thorns, and put it carefully by in a paper. Will 
that suffering, pathetic Face speak to the Muhammadan's heart ? 
N. is no unlearned man. He told me that he had been our 
K. B.'s teacher. "Were you angry with K. B. ?" I asked, — meaning 
for becoming a Christian I The grave man quietly replied in the 
negative.' 

''Nov. 6. — I have lately been paying more attention to children 
in the Zenanas, — partly perhaps because they seem to pay more 
attention to what I say. When they listen in perfect stillness, one 
cannot but hope that the young hearts are receiving some seed of 
life. I had very quiet, attentive little listeners in a Zenana yesterday. 
When I went to another, some of the children followed me, but the 
bibi forbade them to come in. In vain I pleaded that they did not 
make the least noise ; she bade them go and play. But after I had 
read to that woman, and proceeded to another house, children 
came after me, I think two or three of the same ones. That little 
book, with gaily-coloured pictures, about little Daisy, which you sent 
me, is invaluable. . . .' 

Miss Krapf in her turn had had a serious breakdown ; 
and she did not return to Batala. In her place, towards 
the end of the year, came Miss Minnie Dixie, who was to 
be Miss Tucker's constant companion and fellow-inmate 



4i6 THE LIFE, AND LETTERS OF 

of the Mission Bungalow for seven years or more. By 
the time Miss Dixie arrived, as * Sonnenschein ' was made 
only to take in two ladies, and Miss Hoernle was still 
there. Miss Tucker had doubtless moved into her own 
little annexe, — the new west wing of the Bungalow, which 
she had prettily named ' Sunset ! ' 

A ground-plan of the Bungalow gives a good idea of this 
latest earthly home of Charlotte Tucker. One large room 
was divided by screens into bedroom and sitting-room. 
In front and behind were verandahs ; while one side was 
joined to ' Sonnenschein,' and on the other lay dressing- 
room and bathroom. Miss Tucker lived in her own tiny 
' Sunset,' but she took her meals with the other ladies in 
' Sunshine,' and their evenings were often, if not regularly, 
spent together. ' We are a happy little band of Europeans 
at Batala,' she wrote in the November of 1886. 

The year closed with a characteristic little episode, by 
which it might be seen that the old energy and impetuosity 
were by no means snuffed out of existence. A young 
lady, not of the Batala party, was going to a certain 

doctor at , of whose skill Miss Tucker was more than 

dubious. She had, as we have seen, no very flattering 
opinion of the medical faculty in general ; always with 
charming exceptions, where personal intercourse inter- 
fered with theories. On the present occasion it was not 
a man but ' a dreadful woman doctor ' in the case. On 
learning that all was arranged. Miss Tucker exclaimed, 
' You shall not go alone, dear. I will go with you.' And 
go she did ; regardless of age, of weakness, of cold 
weather, of long journeying. 

Nor was this all ! On reaching , Miss Tucker was 

so utterly dissatisfied with the apparent state of things, 
that she flatly refused to give up the patient to the doctor. 
After what she describes as ' a fight, — will against will ! ' 
she fairly carried off her charge to the house of a friend 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 41? 

in the place ; and next day ran away with her, by train, 
to a distant town. The patient happily fell thereafter 
into kind and skilful hands ; and Charlotte Tucker con- 
gratulated herself upon her own prompt and decisive 
action. Whether or no her fears were well founded, one 
cannot but admire her self-sacrificing readiness to endure 
any amount of worry, fatigue, and responsibility on behalf 
of another. The last thing Charlotte Tucker ever did 
was ' to pass by on the other side,' when a human being 
was in need of help. She never dreamt of sparing herself 
Many letters this year bear reference to the different 
pretty and useful articles sent out by friends and working- 
parties for sale or for gifts. With respect to those for 
sale, she did indeed exclaim in one letter : ' I wish dear 
kind friends would sell the things themselves, and simply 
give us the money ! They do not think of the added 
difficulty of insects and climate ! I fear that a good 
many things get spoiled.' This however was not the 
usual strain in which she acknowledged such parcels. 
Here are a few specimen sentences, culled from letters of 
different dates, to Miss Longley : — 

* I received your kind letter to-day, and do not delay thanking you 
heartily for the account of what the dear Warwickshire children are 
doing for the Mission cause. . . . The dolls are capital gifts to send. 
Our little Fatimas and Barakats, etc., like them so much.' 

'Your very nice box of attractive dolls, those that can open and 
shut their eyes, and a number of prettily-dressed sisters clustering 
together like birdies in a nest, safely reached me to-day. . . . They 
have come in excellent time, for our annual examination has been 
delayed. . . . How pleased our little Panjabi maidens will be with 
their dolls, — even blind girls would be charmed, I think ! The clever 
dolls that can open and shut their eyes ought to be very special 
prizes. . . . Dolls are great favourites with Native children, and I do 
not wonder at this. The Native toys look very coarse beside the 
elegantly-dressed little ladies from dear old England.' 

'Dolls are much liked by our dark-eyed little maidens. Not only 
little girls ; but I suspect that many a mother would be pleased to 
2 D 



41 8 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

possess one of the quiet, rosy-cheeked babies from England, that never 
cry nor give any trouble. Your useful work-basket must, I think, be 
presented to some Native Christian girl who is fond of work. . . . 
Native Christians also would, I think, most value the scrap-books 
so kindly prepared. At Christmas we have a bran-pie, only for 
Christians, and we have to get ready about eighty gifts, even in this 
out-of-the-way Batala. I begin my preparations very early. I 
assure you that our children are not "black." Some of the Natives 
are quite pretty, and I think not darker than Spaniards. I every 
now and then see a child with brown hair, perhaps curly.' 

* We have numbers of young people here. It would amuse some 
of your workers to hear a few of their names translated. We have 
amongst girls. Flower, Beloved, Lady of Light, An Offering, etc., — 
amongst boys. Valiant, Feet of Christ, Diamond-pearl, Welfare, etc. 
A nice young convert has the pretty name of " Gift of the Merciful." 
A little boy is "The Mercy of God." His father's name is "The 
Power of God." Fancy a number of dark-eyed men, women, and 
children, with these curious names, assembled around our bran-pie 
(it is really a bath), and some of the pretty presents from Warwick 
popping out to delight them.' 

Dolls are spoken of again and again, as if too many 
could not possibly be sent ; but many other things are 
mentioned also, — such as antimacassars, pretty handker- 
chiefs, boxes of sugar-plums, a nice inkstand, and so on. 
An unlimited amount of presents for Indian Christians at 
Christmas-time was evidently a pressing need. Articles 
for sale had to be sent to Amritsar or elsewhere, as there 
was no demand for them in Batala. 

In February 1887 two little ones came to her for a short 
stay at Batala on their way to England, — the tiny grand- 
children of her brother, Mr. St. George Tucker. Children 
had always a great attraction for her ; and immediately 
letters became full of the small pair, their pretty ways and 
sayings and doings. Miss Tucker had to make arrange- 
ments for their journey home. Writing on March 17 to 
her niece, Miss Edith Tucker, she exclaims : — 

' O these children ! they are such darlings ! Edie will not be 
three till the 19th, but she is as sensible as if double the age ; and 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 419 

seems to take a sort of care of her brother. She is such an honour- 
able httle girl too. Mrs. C, the very nice matron here, has been 
very much struck by this, " It must be hereditary," she said ; "she 
could not have got it from her ayah." ^ . . . My heart feels very 
tender towards the loving pets, whom I shall never see on earth 
again. God grant us a joyful meeting before the Throne ! . . . 

' I sometimes think how proud dear Sir Frederick Abbott^ will be 
of his descendants. Please congratulate him and dear Lady Abbott 
from me.' 

In another letter, about the same date, and also on the 
subject of the children, written to Miss Alice Tucker, 
A. L. O. E. speaks of having been kicked by a horse in a 
small Muhammadan courtyard, — happily not a severe kick. 
The horse struck out sharply, but she had just stepped 
back, and the force of the blow was also broken by the 
umbrella which she held. She escaped therefore with 
only ' a harmless contusion.' It might have been a very 
grave accident. 

On March 26 comes a short letter to Mrs. Hamilton, 
jubilant at the thought of a visit from her friend, Mr. 
Francis Baring : — 

' To-day my darlings embark on the wide, wide ocean, dear little 
" travellers by land and by water " ! What sweet blossoms of the 
fourth generation grow on our honoured Father's family tree I I am 
sure that you think yoi^r pet no exception. . . . 

' I received a note the other day, which made my heart joyful : it 
was from Mera Bhatija. 

' ' He 's coming again ! he 's coming again ! 
Oh, but he's been long awa', 
Far frae his ain," etc. 

He is coming all the way from M , for Batala's ninth birthday. 

I correct the boys' letters to-day, and am pleased at the tone in 
which they write regarding his coming. 

' R, " Won't it be a grand thing to see our dear old Principal 
again?" R. C. "The Rev. F. H. Baring will be here, and I hope 
there will be a grand feast, and racing, jumping, etc. How happy 
we shall be to see the father of our school !"...! shall like to look 

1 A very untruthful woman. - The father of Mrs. St, George Tucker, 



420 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

at dear Babu Singha's face, when he grasps the hand of his old 
patron.' 

Another letter, April 6, refers to a slight operation which 
she had had to undergo, for continued weakness of one 
eye. ' It needed the prick of the lancet and the entrance 
of the probe. It was a mere trifle of an operation ; 
Henry ^ is so gentle and kind,' she wrote cheerily ; then, 
later in the same letter : ' Now I must be off for church. 
We have a great deal of church-going in this Holy Week. I 
have to play the harmonium to-day. This week Minnie 
and I have been taking the privilege alternately.' 

She was greatly interested this year in a young 
Muhammadan, who seemed much disposed towards 
Christianity, yet was never able to make up his mind or 
to act with decision. He appeared, as she said in one 
letter, to have clearly ' two wills, — one desiring Baptism,' 
the other drawing him among the enemies of Christianity. 
' He swings from good to evil like a very pendulum,' she 
observed. ' We cannot keep him from the Muhammadans ; 
yet the Muhammadans cannot keep him from Christ' In 
another May letter she wrote of him : ' B. P. interested me 
yesterday by trying to make me get one of the boys here 
off with the latter part of a punishment. " You are a kind 
of mother," said he. " When the father is angry, the mother 
should plead." Natives do not clearly understand about 
discipline and justice ; even Christian Natives are apt to 
think that offenders should be quickly forgiven, however 
disastrous the results might be. Abstract justice to the 
Oriental sometimes looks like revenge. How often have I 
heard Muhammadans say, " God is the Forgiver ! " — with 
this they put conscience to rest. But a good many, called 
Christians, fall into the dangerous mistake of imagining 
the pure holy God to be too loving to be just. It is the 
echo of Satan's lie, " Ye shall not surely die." ' 

1 Dr. H. M. Clark. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 421 

In June came one of the heaviest blows of all her 
Missionary career, — a very dark shadow indeed upon its 
brightness. This was the sudden and unexpected apostasy 
of one who for years had belonged to their little band of 
Christians, — one of the first Native Christians whom she 
had learnt to know on her earliest arrival at Amritsar, — 
one whom she had loved and trusted, and whom she had 
looked upon as not only a follower of Christ by profession 
but in very truth. She felt the defection of this man with 
exceeding acuteness. He has been once or twice already 
referred to as Z., or Maulvi Z., and he might have 
been referred to dozens of times. The first letter on this 
sad subject to Mrs. Hamilton was written while Miss 
Tucker was away from home, staying with Mr. and Mrs. 
Francis Baring. 

'"June 23, 1887. — I am certainly strong-er, and should like the visit 
to the dear excellent Barings much, if I had not such troubles. From 
Batala Mission has come such a shock ! Fancy Maulvi Z. and 
his family going over to the Muhammadans, — he who for about 
twelve years had been such a well-known member of the Church, — 
she who for eighteen months worked as an Honorary Biblewoman ! 
Both, with their nice eldest son, took the Communion with me this 
very month ! It is terrible ! The wretched Maulvi is to receive 40s. 
for teaching in an opposition school, just set up to injure our Mission 
School. . . . The Muhammadans have had rejoicings and fireworks, 
— the enemies of the Lord will triumph and blaspheme. But I 
believe that Z. has no faith in the false prophet, and that he has 
loved the Saviour. The prodigal may come back, but probably after 
terrible judgments, for he is sinning against light and love. I have 
not the heart to write on other subjects.' 

''Ju7ie 29, 1887. — I propose starting for Batala early on Monday 
the nth. I must be in time for the prize-givings and a feast. Mera 

Bhatija had a letter to-day from , who does not think that Z.'s 

terrible apostasy has done any harm to the Christian cause in Batala. 
The more respectable Muhammadans do not trust him, and our 
preachers are listened to as well as before. But oh, the wretched 
man himself and his family! I must not dwell on a subject which 
has made me so unhappy.' 



422 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

She could not, however, keep from recurring to it once 
and again, as darker details came out. Indignation at 
the conduct of the apostate was equalled by her pity for 
the unhappy man himself. Writing on July 29, still on 
the same subject, she said : ' He did harm in the school 
while teaching here. Some of the Muhammadans 
despise him. A most sarcastic, withering article has 
come out in a Muhammadan newspaper against the 
apostate.' 

On reaching home another trial assailed her. One of 
her most trusted servants, mentioned repeatedly as V., 
proved to be utterly dishonest, and had to be dismissed. 
Miss Tucker felt this too very acutely. ' In all my 
Missionary life,' she wrote on July 16, ' I never knew such 
a year as this.' 

Miss Dixie was at this time away, and two or three 
short extracts from letters to her may be given : — 

''July 18, 1887. — Welcome, dearest Minnie, JiomcX We are to 
have a picnic in celebration of your return. Please travel in a dull, 
if the roads are very bad, as they are pretty sure to be. Tell us when 
and where to send for you. We have had many troubles at Batala 
since you left, — the unhappy Maulvi not only apostatising himself 
and family, but slandering his former friends right and left. I have 
dismissed V., and P. has followed him. A sight of your dear kind 
face will be a cheer to your affectionate Auntie.' 

^ July 30. — What an adventurous journey my dearest Minnie had ! 
Thank God, dear, that you are all safe and right. ... I seem always 
to be asking you to excuse short letters ; but the fact is that almost 
everything is an effort to me. I just manage to get through a little 
work, but seem not to be able for much correspondence just at 
present.' 

''Aug. 10. — I am glad that you are well and happy. You must not 
think that I forget you, because I write little. It is rather a case of 
" duties thronging round," and not much strength to perform them.' 

^ Aug. 16. — We have had suc/i floods ! On Sunday there was no 
attempt to reach the large Church. There was Service in Anarkalli ; 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 423 

but that was surrounded with water. Some went on horseback, some 
in dulis.' 

One letter to Mrs. Hamilton contains a brief description 
of her own work : — 

^ Aug. 31. — I go, you know, to city work in the morning. After 
our late breakfast I have a succession of people coming. For instance, 
to-day, — 1st, Munshi and four boys. 2nd, A convert came, to read 
the Bible to me. 3rd, A teacher came, for me to explain difficult 
English idioms. 4th, Three lads for English lessons. 5th, A fourth 
lad more advanced. You see, love, that this is not a sleepy life, 
though in this warm weather I usually get some sleep in the daytime. 
I like having the dear boys. They have done much to keep the 
heart green under various Missionary discouragements.' 

On the 9th of September, responding to Mrs. Hamilton's 
letter upon the unhappy subject related above, she said : — 

' I fear that I cannot share your hopes. ... A man who for nearly 
twelve years passed as a Christian, took the Sacrament not many 
days before he became apostate, spoke coarsely of the Holy 
Communion to Muhammadans, and bitterly of Christians, . . . seems 
to me almost ^2iS\. hope. He has, as far as he could, "crucified the 
Son of God afresh " and " put Him to an open shame." . . . Instead 
of, as you sweetly write, " bitterly lamenting, like St. Peter," poor 
Z. day by day sits by his mosque, deceiving the people.' 

One more quotation on this sad subject may be made 
from a letter, dated April 12, 1889, when Miss Tucker was 
perplexed what to do about seeing some relatives of the 
unhappy apostate, who were staying with him. ' Bishop 

French excommunicated (we do not call him Z. 

now), and forbade Christians having intercourse with 

him It would clearly be wrong to throw over the s, 

who had 7tot left the Fold. I asked counsel from Herbert, 
and guidance from One Higher.' Eventually she did 
manage to see the relatives while avoiding the apostate. 

Until the year 1886 Miss Tucker apparently kept no 
regular written record of her daily work. But in the 
August of that year, doubtless from a sense that her 



424 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

memory was becoming less trustworthy than of old, she 
started a Journal, which was kept up until within three 
weeks or so of her death. The Journal consists of 273 
closely written foolscap pages ; and, as Miss Wauton says, 
they * give us a glimpse of the earnest, unremitting toil of 
those seven years in the Batala Zenanas.' The volume 
opens with a list of about 173 names of those whom she 
was then visiting ; and this continued to be about the 
average number throughout the seven years ; some Zenanas 
being from time to time closed, while new ones were 
opened. To quote again from Miss Wauton, whose long 
Indian and Missionary experience renders her judgment 
especially valuable : — 

' Besides being a record of Zenana work, the Diary records many 
little incidents in connection with the daily life ; e.g. notices of the 
arrivals and departures of fellow -workers, and of the many friends 
and visitors who came to see her. There are numerous references 
to the boys of the Baring High School, any sickness or death 
amongst them, the subjects taken in her classes with them and with 
the boys of the Mission Plough. . . . All speak of the many objects 
embraced by her wide sympathies. But the Zenana teaching is 
always first and foremost. Other things come in, as it were, by the 
way. The whole Diary shows how carefully and methodically she 
carried on this visiting, and what infinite pains she took to find out 
and invent things which would help to attract the people, and open 
the way for the delivery of her message. 

* Her inventive genius enabled her to do this very effectively ; and 
the wonderful pictures and allegorical designs she took with her 
opened many doors, which would have probably remained fast barred 
against a less winning visitor. These charms were very varied. 
She seems generally to have taken one with her to every place she 
went to ; and to have changed it from time to time, as the lesson to 
be taught from it had been learnt, or the novelty had worn off. 

'These are all entered in the Diary as "Ladder," "Jewel," 
"Zouave," "Pagoda," "Prism," "Crosses," "Tree," "Purse," etc. 
The first was a ladder, painted in various colours, showing the 
different steps by which the sinner mounts up from grace to glory. 
The second is a jewel, covered over with several pieces of cloth, 
representing the different veils, such as ignorance, prejudice, self- 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 425 

righteousness, which, covering man's heart, conceal from his view 
and hinder his attainment of the jewel of Truth. But these con- 
trivances were not the only key with which these bigoted Zenanas 
were opened. We find in the Journal frequent memoranda of little 
gifts to be taken to certain houses, — " sandcloth," on the occasion of 
a wedding or birth, " medicine," " quinine," " spectacles," " tea," 
" soap," etc. The Scripture subjects spoken upon each day are also 
entered. . . . 

' Her love of children was remarkable ; and in many cases, where 
the elder members of the household refused to listen, she would get an 
interested audience from amongst the little ones. She writes in one 
place, " Such nice children ! " in another, " I found myself stroking 
little cheeks." . . . Another striking feature of Miss Tucker was 
the courage and indomitable perseverance which she showed in the 
most difficult and trying circumstances. "Nil Desperandum" was 
her favourite motto, and she carried it out fully. Sometimes she 
was rudely treated, sometimes even insulted ; but nothing daunted 
her.' 

Here are a few specimen extracts from the Journal, 
including one or two of unusual length. The majority are 
exceedingly short. I do not give the correct initials for 
either Zenanas or people : — 

''Aug. 24, 1886. — A. very nice sick father, twelve quiet children; 
Mark ii. 

B. a little better, Christ blessing children. 

C. disappointing ; outburst of bigotry ; M. however silent. 

D. friendly ; read three parables. Good listening. 

E. very indifferent. Bibis. Mark vii. N. left. 

Aug. 25. — F. fair. 

G. Had very nice talk with him. Prodigal Son. From John iii. 

New. H.'s nice wife. Seemed almost Christian. Ditto. 

J. nice. Boy, , promised book if he comes. From Matt. x. 

K. Send cloth to new baby. Read a little of Xt.'s Birth. 

Aug. 26. — L. careless. ... I do not remember what I read. . . . 
M. Only children attended. Children A., D.' 

Sept. I. — L. very cross, ill-tempered, loud voice. Rebuked by 
elder woman. I showed picture of Christ healing, quoted " Learn of 
Me." After a while face quite softened, voice subdued. . . . Last 
thing promised she would go to church. . . .' 



426 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKE^ 

'■Dec. 15, 1886. — Rudely treated. Man with unpleasant face and 
blemished eye shook the charpai (bedstead) on which I was seated 
four times, to make me get off. Went to second place ; people 
noisy. A man asked me to read of Christ, and I began. Was asked 
to go to more open place. Went, — found open place was the outside 
of the village. Had to go off. 

' B. H. (another village). Rejected here also. Even a tiny clod 
was thrown. I told people at both villages that I prayed God to 
forgive them for their conduct to His servant. Ours is a religion of 
love.' 

''Jan. 28, 1887. — P. very nice. Q., a youth, hearing of Last 
Judgment, says that he wants to be a right-side one, and will pray to 
be so. He is going to marry ; says wife and he will both be right 
side. He means to send her to our school. He learned in Mission 
Plough.' 

''May 12, 1887. . . . (List of names.) Except 's house, none 

really satisfactory. My heart very sad. There seems hardly any 
good ground in Batala.' 

The names of Zenanas, villages, and people living in 
either, are generally printed in dark letters on the left side 
of the page, while the coming and going of Missionaries 
and friends, as well as items of home news, are printed on 
the right side. On February 15, 1887, is the terse entry, 
'■ Operation on eye ' ; and the very next day, almost equally 
terse, * I was kicked by a horse.' Towards the end of the 
same month is a characteristic notice of the death of one 
of her nieces, printed large : ' VESA LEFT EARTH ! ' Death 
to her meant simply this, — leaving Earth for a 'better 
Country.' 



CHAPTER XVI 

A.D. 1 887- 1 888 

A VISIT FROM BISHOP FRENCH 

One matter of marked interest in the year 1887 was the 
retirement of Bishop French from the Bishopric of Lahore, 
and his return to the humbler post of simple Missionary. 
This step appealed strongly to Miss Tucker's sense of 
admiration. On the 8th of October she wrote to Mrs. 
Hamilton : — 

' I have already, as you see, written a good deal by this mail, . . . 
but I will not let the post for England go without at least a few loving 
lines to my own dearest sister. The dear good Bishop is resigning, 
I hear that he feels it sorely ; but he has no intention of leaving 
work. He resigns the Ejiglish part into what he feels to be stronger 
hands, — but will, I believe, continue Missionary work amongst 
Natives, He was first a Missionary ; and^ — ^dear man ! — it is not 
improbable that he will die a Missionary. To lay down a mitre is 
no degradation ! ' 

A few days later, having heard that the Bishop purposed 
paying her a little visit at Batala, she wrote to him direct : — 

' Batala, Oct. 20, 1 887. 

Revered Bishop, — Though I know not whether this will reach you 
till after your return from Batala, I cannot forbear thanking you for 
your affectionate letter, and intention of gratifying me by visiting my 
simple little Missionary home. I received your letter at Amritsar, 
having — for a wonder — left Batala to be present at the wedding of dear 
old Mr. Newton's grandson at Ludhiana. This has occasioned a little 
delay in my replying. Mr. Corfield also was absent, having gone to 

427 



428 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

bring his wife from Dharmsala ; but we expect him to-morrow 
morning, and then he shall know your wishes. I think that you will 
find the Ghurub-i-Aftab very quiet. You will see visitors or not, just 
as you please, — only give a hint of your wishes. When the dear 
Lord's Servants honour me with a visit, I say that they gild my 
floors. 

' If it be not presumptuous in me to say so, I would express my 
feeling that there is something beautiful and elevating in the idea of 
one who was a Missionary before he was a Bishop, becoming a 
Missionary after leaving his Bishopric ; laying down the crozier and 
mitre, to take up the simple Evangelist's staff. Perhaps, my honoured 
Friend, — if permitted to call you so, — your grandest work is yet to 
come. — Yours with affectionate respect, C. M. Tucker. 

'■ P.S. — Please offer my affectionate and grateful remembrances to 
dear Mrs. French.' 

The Bishop's visit came about, as hoped for ; and it 
was a great pleasure to Miss Tucker to receive him. 
Although they might differ on certain points, they 
were one in absolute love and obedience to the same 
Lord and Master; and each thoroughly appreciated, 
thoroughly delighted in, the whole-hearted and single 
devotion of the other. In some respects the two were 
much alike. There was in both, as Dr. Weitbrecht has 
said, ' a fiery impatience of difficulty or delay which some- 
times led to mistakes.' In both also there was a remark- 
able upliftedness^ — if the word is permissible, — an absorp- 
tion in things spiritual, which made earthly matters seem 
altogether unimportant by comparison. 

The one drawback to Miss Tucker's enjoyment was that 
she gave up to the Bishop her own little ' house,' — and 
such changes had at her time of life grown to be somewhat 
of a trial. But she would not hear of a gentleman being 
permitted to sleep in ' Sonnenschein,' with the younger 
ladies, — not even her beloved and revered Bishop ! ! She 
had not perhaps entirely even yet lost sight of her old 
favourite idea of a home for Mission Miss Sahibas, into 
which a man's foot might not enter. At all events, she 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 429 

decided to sleep there herself, and to give up her little 
Sunset home to the Bishop. Which she did. 

' It was beautiful to see them together/ Miss Dixie has 
said, when speaking of this visit, which lasted somewhat 
under a week. The Bishop and Miss Tucker went about 
in company, attended church together, and had many a 
long talk, — both of them white-haired, fragile in look, worn 
out with heavy toil, aged beyond their years. Both would 
be so utterly absorbed in the subject under discussion, as 
to see nothing around, to hear nothing that went on. 
There was about each of them a remarkable Other-worldli- 
ness, to use a curious term, sometimes employed in this 
sense. They were citizens of Heaven, not of Earth ; and 
they realised the fact to an extent not often equalled. 

But with all her ' Other-worldliness,' Miss Tucker never 
lost the sense of fun and humour, as connected with the 
things of this world. One amusing little incident is told 
of the Bishop's visit. He had brought with him a 
Muhammadan manservant. Miss Tucker habitually kept 
in her cupboard a small bottle of brandy, in case of need, 
— the brandy being well dosed with quinine, to render it 
unattractive. When the Bishop was gone, this little bottle 
was found to have vanished also. Miss Tucker, on making 
the discovery, went back to her friends, to exclaim, with an 
indescribable expression, ' That greedy Muhammadan has 
taken the brandy ? ' — then bursting into a fit of laughter at 
the thought of his surprise on tasting the quinine. She 
often referred to this afterwards with great amusement. 

It was remarkable in A. L. O. E. that she still, in old 
age, remembered and carefully followed in small matters her 
parents' wishes. Not of course that her life was shaped 
by them. Probably old Mr. Tucker would have disap- 
proved of few things more highly than of a woman under- 
taking such work as she undertook ; but here she followed 
the dictates of her own conscience. In slighter questions, 



430 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

where conscience was not involved, she loved to do what 
they had of old desired. Still, as always, she rose early to 
work, and went to bed in good time, according to the promise 
given long, long before. Still, when she drank afternoon 
tea, she always took something to eat with it, because ' her 
Mother had liked her to do so.' And often, though old and 
weak, when she caught herself to be stooping, she still would 
pull herself sharply upright, and say : ' I remembered, — 
my dear Father always wanted me to sit straight.' 

While habitually much interested in engagements and 
marriages, she was particular as to modes of speech on such 
subjects. Once or twice, when some girl-visitor spoke with 
what she considered an unbecoming lightness, upon some 
matter of love or love-making. Miss Tucker observed, after 
the girl's departure, — ' My dear, what a vulgar person ! ! ' 

The same curious diversity of opinion as to particular 
points of Miss Tucker's character which was observable in 
her English life, is also observable in her Indian life. Here 
again are opposite opinions. One says, ' She was so 
peculiarly sympathetic ! ' Another, with equally good 
opportunities for judging, says, ' Exceedingly kind, but 
not sympathetic' One says, ' She was so well able to put 
herself into the place of another in trouble ! ' Another 
says, ' No tact ; the kindest intentions, but she did not 
always know how to manage.' 

The explanation lies, no doubt, at least in part, in her 
own many-sidedness, and in the very different manner in 
which she was affected by different people. Some appealed 
to her tenderness ; some only called out her kindliness. 
She could and did love intensely ; but only in particular 
cases : and though to a wide outer circle she gave love, it was 
of a less ardent nature. Moreover, she could dislike people ; 
and when she once took a marked dislike, though this 
was seldom, it would be not quite easy to make her view 
with fairness that person's doings. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 431 

She was very impulsive still ; the same eager, enthusi- 
astic warm-hearted being, who had lived in girlhood at 
No. 3, — modified, but not intrinsically different. Possibly, 
in old age, with weakened health, after living practically 
much alone, the natural tendency to hasty judgments 
may have somewhat increased. But if so, there was also 
an increase in the spirit of humility, a far greater readiness 
than of old to acknowledge herself mistaken or in the 
wrong. By nature she was not gentle and had not self- 
control ; and physical weakness doubtless often rendered the 
fight harder, — yet she persevered in the fight with never- 
failing resolution. 

Sometimes she would hear of a thing done by one of 
the younger IMissionaries, and would at once condemn it, 
not waiting to learn all the circumstances, and speaking 
with some severity. A few days later something would 
turn up, explaining more fully the why and the wherefore 
of the action in question ; and then she would say frankly, 
' Well, I think I w^as wrong, after all ! I think you were 
right to do as you did ! ' A smaller and less noble nature 
would probably have refused to see the mistake, and would 
have clung obstinately to its own way of thinking. 

Although she would occasionally speak hastily, she did 
not as a rule write hastily. If she could not in her 
letters praise a person, she would cease to bring forward 
that person's name, — at all events in letters meant for 
general reading. 

It may also be noted here that, as time went on, Char- 
lotte Tucker, in her extreme desire for Missionary sim- 
plicity and economy, had become a little apt to push 
matters in that direction to an excess. Few people are 
constituted as she was, to toil hard and to live long upon 
the smallest possible minimum of food. As some of the 
weakness of old age crept over her, she was perhaps not 
always quite reasonable respecting Missionary requirements 



432 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

and necessities. She would at times seem to expect 
others, for the sake of economy, to do with what she 
herself found sufficient, but which to their different con- 
stitutions meant something like semi-starvation. This at 
least is the impression of one who ought to be accounted 
a good judge, and it appears to have been in some degree 
a trouble to certain of her companions. 

During all those long years of Indian life, amid the 
variety of people with whom she was thrown, while there 
were many whom she could love, and some whom she 
could love most warmly, there were also naturally a few 
who did not suit her, any more than she suited them. She 
may have been somewhat of a trial to them ; and undoubt- 
edly they were very much of a trial to her ; yet despite all 
her natural impetuosity and impatience of disposition, she 
bore long and patiently in such cases. As one says, who was 
with her in some of those later years, 'Although sometimes 
hasty in judging, she was also capable of much forbearance.' 

It is noticeable that one who knew her well speaks of a 
remarkable softening and increase of gentleness during 
the last three years of her life. Naturally very ' up and 
down ' in her moods, she became then far more uniformly 
bright. The fruit was growing very ripe, almost ready to 
drop from the tree. Miss Wauton, too, tells of the growing 
loveliness of expression in her face, as the end drew nearer. 
But we have not yet quite arrived at those last three years. 

By this time Miss Tucker was a little apt to fall behind 
in new methods of work, and to cling to what was old- 
fashioned. Needful changes in the High School were at 
first a trouble to her, even though they might be real 
improvements, tending to render the school more efficient. 
She liked, for instance, to drop in at odd hours, and to 
< take a class,' after the manner of an English squire's 
daughter dropping into the village school. As numbers 
and discipline increased it was found to be not always a 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 433 

convenient plan, and objections were made. Miss Tucker 
one day, in a fit of depression at having to give up this 
and other things, is recorded to have said, ' My work 
is done ! I don't care how soon I go now ! ' 

This happily was a mere passing fit of sadness. It was 
soon after arranged that a Class of the older youths 
should go to her for instruction on Sunday afternoons ; 
and in the class she found very great interest. She would 
also ask her * dear boys,' a few at a time, to spend week- 
day evenings with her, for games of play, which she 
enjoyed fully as much as they did. She was very much 
beloved by the boj-s ; and they were no less delighted to 
come to her than she was to have them. Her influence 
over these boys, over Indian Christians generally, and over 
most of the Missionaries with whom she came in contact, 
will never be forgotten. 

The springy step of earlier years was not quite lost, even 
in old age. Another thing that she kept remarkably long 
was, as earlier stated, her voice for singing. It had of 
course grown thin and weak, and was now a good deal 
cracked ; still she did not sing out of tune ; and her enjoy- 
ment in singing never failed. It was with her the natural 
expression of her feelings. When she sang in Church, and 
when she played the harmonium, her whole face would 
light up in a marvellous manner. Indians — not Chris- 
tians — would walk long distances, and be present in 
Church, simply to look upon the face of the Buzurg Miss 
Sahiba, as she sang or played. Such an illumination on 
the face of a human being was counted well worth some 
exertion to see. Another account tells of a Native who 
would go to Church for the express purpose of watching 
her look, when she recited the Gloria. It was all so real 
to A. L. O. E. Her very smile was a sermon in itself. 

All these years Zenana teaching went steadfastly on. 
She ever had before her mind a keen sense that her own 

2E 



434 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

call might come before another morning's dawn, and that 
the present might be her last opportunity of speaking. 
Sometimes she would be depressed when reading of others 
who had had more apparent results to their work ; yet 
through countless discouragements she never slackened. 

The same Native Christian from whom I have quoted 
earlier as to the non-success, in his opinion, of her 
Missionary labours, says also about Miss Tucker : ' She 
was far from being a good judge of the Indian character. 
I remember her pointing to a Native Christian, and say- 
ing that the very light of Heaven was being reflected from 
his countenance, when in fact he had almost apostatised.' 
But this was simply a repetition of the old tendency to 
think always the very best of everybody, — the habit being 
cultivated to such an excess as materially to interfere 
with her powers of perception in particular cases. It 
does not touch the question of her general understanding 
of the Indian character. Penetration, as to individuals, 
was hardly one of her gifts ; and few would hesitate 
to agree to the assertion that she thought a great deal 
better of many Natives than, unfortunately, they deserved. 
Her eyes were opened slowly through bitter and repeated 
disappointments. But to the last she would probably 
have preferred to be sometimes deceived, rather than to be 
always suspecting. 

In the continuous pressure of her work and trials, Char- 
lotte Tucker was a woman of prayer. Not that she was 
given to long and wordy outpourings ; but she lived on the 
border-land of the Unseen, and she held incessant inter- 
course with her Divine Master. Whatever she felt, whatever 
she wanted, when she was afraid, when she was depressed, 
when things went wrong, when she could not see her way, 
the first impulse of her heart was always — prayer ! Then 
she would wait to see His Will. 

Systematic as were the entries in her Journal, those last 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 435 

few years of life, she was apt to be a little forgetful, — which 
no doubt was the very reason that she started the Journal. 
She would come in and say to Miss Dixie, ' Such a sweet 
young Bibi in a Zenana to-day, dear. She wants to see 
you.' When Miss Dixie asked where the young Bibi lived, 
her recollections were confused, and she could not say. The 
name of Bibi, husband, and house had all escaped. Miss 
Dixie would then have to question the bearers as to where 
they had taken Miss Tucker, and so find out particulars. 

The writing of books and booklets still continued to 
some extent ; indeed, it could not have been long before 
this that she achieved a good-sized volume for young 
English readers, called — Pictures of St. Peter in an English 
Home. As its name might imply, it was controversial in 
character, being written against the errors of the Roman 
Church. She could not, however, work so hard now with 
her pen as in earlier years. Dr. Weitbrecht states that 
'her books for publication in England, the proceeds of 
which went to support local work, were mostly written 
during her brief summer holiday. It was when she felt 
her powers failing in this line that she set aside part of her 
patrimony to endow the " Mission Plough." ' 

The absence of allusions to her own writings in years of 
correspondence is remarkable. Once in a way she speaks 
of what she is doing, but this is quite the exception. Her 
natural reserve showed strongly here. She had also a 
curious dislike to being questioned — a fact noticed by 
relatives in her English life years before ; and one of her 
Missionary companions tells of it also. If questions were 
put direct, she would say, ' I am not your Mother- 
Superior ; don't appeal to me ! ' — when her questioner was 
longing to have the benefit of her years of experience. A 
story is told of one gentleman, who came from a con- 
siderable distance, on purpose to consult Miss Tucker 
about some books that he meant to publish. The call was 



436 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

a failure. Instead of gradually getting into conversation, 
and luring her on to tell what she knew, he asked point- 
blank the things that he wanted to hear ; and the result was 
nil. On his way back to the station, he inquired whether 
Miss Tucker had not lost her memory. Not at all, he was 
told, — but direct questioning always checked information. 

In the November of 1887 the small Star-Dispensary was 
opened by Dr. Weitbrecht, for Miss Dixie. She had under- 
gone some training in England ; and though not ' qualified,' 
she had it in her power to do much more for the women 
and children of the neighbourhood than their own people 
could do for them. Many objections have been made to the 
idea of a Dispensary anywhere, without a properly qualified 
doctor ; and no doubt as soon as possible the latter should 
in all cases be supplied. But where a doctor cannot be had, 
then in default of what is better, a trained nurse can do a 
great deal to help, in ordinary cases of sickness or accident 
The reception given to this little Dispensary soon showed 
how much it was valued. 

In a letter of December 9th are some words of depres- 
sion under difficulties, especially the difficulty of finding a 
new master for the ' Plough School,' as the former master 
was going away. 

' I send you and dear Leila a few words of St. Paul's which seem 
to me so sweet and restful, — a pillow for weary heads. " Beloved of 
God, called to be saints." It is often difficult to realise that we are 
beloved of God, because conscience says we do not deserve to be so. 
I have often to fight against discouragements.' 

On the 2 1st of January 1888 is a mention of the 
' Missionary Ladies' Conference,' to be held in Amritsar 
late in February, with a hope that all would be ' as friendly 
and good-tempered ' as on the previous occasion, five 
years earlier. Towards the close of February comes her 
report of what had occurred : — 

''Feb. 24, 1888. — I found your letter awaiting me this e-veniug, when 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 437 

I returned from the four days' Conference of Lady Missionaries at 
Amritsar. . . . Conferences are rather tiring. Sittings each day from 
lo to I, and 2 to 4, and always something besides. We had about 
sixty ladies, of various Denominations and Societies and Nationalities 
too, English, German, American, Indian. On Thursday, after our 
Conference work, we went to Church, and had such a solemn spiritual 
sermon from our new Bishop.^ It was the first time that I ever had 
seen him. 

' In the evening there was rather a large meeting of Christians, 
both white and brown, to meet the Bishop. I was introduced to 
him ; and we had — in the midst of the room— a quiet talk, which I 
do not think that I shall ever forget. It was almost as if we could at 
once meet heart to heart. ... I think that he takes up his high office 
more as a burden and a Cross than a dignity. I felt greatly drawn 
towards him, and thank the Lord for sending us a holy and humble 
man.' 

''Feb. 28. — I must tell my loved Laura a little about the Conference, 
and the characteristic way in which M., the real, took me down a 
peg this evening. The first day nice Mrs. Perkins, presided ; on the 
second another nice lady ; I was particularly requested to sit in the 
chair on the third and the first half of the fourth days. 

' Now on the second there had been rather a hot discussion. 
There had been a show of hands ; but numbers were so closely 
divided that we had to go by ballot. Even then there was only a 
majority of one ; and some of the members were absent, and some 
imperfectly informed. In short, when Char succeeded to office, the 
question was brought up again by a strong lady on the one side, — 
and then a paper was read by a strong lady on the other, — and I 
proposed that votes should be taken agai?!, which resulted in a 
majority of four, I being one of the four. A lady of the minority 
called out, " It does not matter what is voted ; we will all do just the 
same as before," — which was more true than polite. Then there was 
another lady, who got up time after time, to make impracticable 
propositions ; and she got snubbed and sat down and cried. . . . Oh 
dear, it does not do to be so thin-skinned ! So you see, dear, all did 
not go on quite smoothly while I sat in the chair, with the bonnet on 
my head which you wore at dear Fred's wedding ! 

' This evening . . . Herbert asked M. about the Conference. 
" I thought the first day nice, when Mrs. Perkins presided," said she. 
I laughed a little again, and, I think, complimented her on her 

1 Bishop Matthews. 



438 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

sincerity. ... It was clear that M. did not admire my way of 
presiding. Now, I had been voted thanks at the meeting ; but dear 
M.'s honesty made me feel more than I had done before that 
I had not been very efficient. It is a good thing to know the truth. 

' Is not this a funny little glimpse of life ? . . . I doubt myself that 
there is much use in Conferences, except that it is nice that some 
dear workers should meet and know each other. We had many very 
choice ones.' 

More than a year later Miss Tucker referred again to 
this Conference, when writing to Mrs. Hamilton upon the 
subject of whether or not secular teaching in schools should 
be undertaken by Missionary ladies : — 

' I cannot explain to you all the difficulties that surround the 
question. We had a kind of wordy battle on the matter at the 
Ladies' Conference ; and it was no good ! When a lady proposed 
another Conference after another five years, I suggested after te7i^ but 
no one seconded poor Char ! I am not calm and phlegmatic enough 
for these discussions, and, I am afraid, do not always see both sides 
of a question. I more and more now mistrust my own judgment, and 
sometimes feel rather disgusted with — myself ! ' 

There are thousands of people who lack the power of 
looking on both sides of a question ; but among them all 
few are humble enough to acknowledge the fact ! — still 
more, to distrust their own judgment. 

When the Conference was over, Miss Tucker remarked 
to one of her companions, * I proposed ten years, because 
I thought that then I should not be here.' She was ' here ' 
five years later, but was within a few months of her call 
Home. 

''March 17, 1888. — I will tell you of a curious surprise I had a few 
days ago. I was in my duli in one of the streets of Batala, when I 
met one of my most highly respected Native friends, the dear old 
Pandit, now the Rev. K. S. . . . A crowded street is not the 

place for a talk. The Pandit asked me to go to his village, O , 

and had evidently some particular reason for his request. As the 
next day was one of my village days, I promised to go then. ... If 
I thought much about the cause of a visit being desired, I guessed 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 439 

that it either concerned some Mission work, or the health of the 
good Bibi. But I was utterly wide of the mark, and so I think will 
my Laura and Leila be, if they take to guessing. 

' The dear couple had set their hearts on presenting me with a 
beautiful, richly embroidered white Cashmere shawl, which the Bibi, 
I know not how long ago, had bought . . . from some one in dis- 
tress. In vain I expostulated, in vain said that the lovely shawl 
was fit for the Queen, and that it was not suitable for me to wear 
anything so handsome ; that it might be sold for the Mission. 
Both the smiling husband and wife were determined to have it round 
my shoulders ; and I had to go away wearing it, though I took it off 
in the duli, and took care of it, as if it had been a child. Now, the 
Pandit and his wife want nothing from me ; this was no case of 
giving in hopes of receiving. The whole thing took me by surprise.' 

''April 21. — We are soon to go — all in the heat — to share a 3 P.M. 
dinner at the Corfields, and meet the Bishop, Mr. Clark, and dear 
Herbert, — such a galaxy of good men, that we won't mind the heat, 
especially as my plump wadded umbrella is a real protection. 

' I am reading — slowly — like a child enjoying a cake, that delight- 
ful Life of Bishop Gobat. I mean to buy a copy for myself; it would 
be so good for lending or extracting from. It is such a humbling 
book too. I feel like a barn-door chicken looking up at an eagle, 
and chirping, " I 'm a bird too ! " A pretty difference between 
them ! Now to put o'ix your sun-hat, and be off.' 

''April 26. — You are quite right if you think your unnamed 
convert's idea of his baptism killing his mother a false one. It seems 
the regular trick here to draw back converts from Christ by telling 
them of a mother's illness. We feel in such cases the force of our 
Lord's words, " Let the dead bury their dead ! " It seems hard at 
first ; but experience shows us how needful is the caution.' 

''May I. — Neither has April gone out smiling, nor did " May come 
laughing o'er the plain." The one has gone out, the other came in, — 
in such a passion. It was so dark yesterday that I was reminded of 
a London fog. Minnie required a lamp to read by ; a lamp, at 4j 
P.M. on a summer-day, shed its light on our dinner-table. This is my 
day for villages when I have extra kahars. I had ordered them not 
to come, should the day be as bad as yesterday ; but come they did. 
Evidently these hardy fellows do not mind a dust-storm. They rather 
seem to enjoy it, . . . and laughed merrily enough as we went along.' 

'June I, 1888. — I have to thank my sweet Laura for helping to 



440 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

provide me with a nice tussore dress for my visit to Murree. I 
cannot wear white there as I do in Batala, where it does not look 
odd, as almost every man, woman, and child appears in white. 
There is nothing like it for such hot weather. But in Murree, where 
there are many European ladies, I must dress more suitably, and also 
be prepared for any kind of weather, heat, cold, and torrents of rain. 
For my cold-weather apparel I have the very elegant grey dress^ 
which dear W. and M. gave me a few years ago. When the weather 
is warmer my new tussore will be just the thing. I do not like writing 
so much about dress ; but I wished to thank you for your kindness. . . . 
* Excuse a short letter, love. I have so much writing in the way 
of thanking for gifts to the Mission. Friends are so very kind. I 
have asked a kind Station-lady, Mrs. G., whether she will help 
me to sell at Murree beautiful things sent from England for the 
Mission. I am a bad saleswoman myself. I sometimes feel inclined 
to tell people 7iot to buy what they do not require.' 

^June 19, 1888. — I was so much interested to-day by our young 
Goorkha J.'s account of his own conversion and adventures, that I 
will try to write out the gist of it for you and dear Leila. . . . 

'Born of a Brahmin family in Nepaul, our Goorkha thought of 
himself as a kind of god. He would motion to beings of lower 
dignity to sit at a little distance from him ; he was not to be polluted 
by their touch. The child, however, attended a Mission School at 

D , and came a good deal under the influence of a Christian 

Convert, a Pandit (learned man). At the age of about twelve the 
boy resolved to leave father, mother, all, for Christ. He was too 
young to be baptized without his parents' permission, and was advised 
to go a long way off. To be able to do so, the boy sold his valuable 
gold earrings and bracelets, and, having thus a good stock of rupees, 
he made his start, not by any direct route, but through wild, un- 
inhabited jungle. 

' He was accompanied and helped by an older Hindu, a sad rogue, 
who had his own object, it appears, in assisting the flight of the 
wealthy young Brahmin. The country was rocky and infested by 
wild beasts. For two nights the fugitives slept in the trees, for 
protection against leopards, bears, and tigers. But this extreme 
discomfort could not be endured a third night ; so they slept on the 
ground, after lighting fires to prevent any attack from fierce animals 
roaming about. The boy awoke, — I am not sure whether it was on 
that or a succeeding morning, — to find that the false Hindu had 
decamped with his money, clothes, etc. Happily, the boy-convert 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 441 

had secreted on his own person fifteen or twenty rupees ; and with 
these, in the torn dirty clothes left to him still, the Brahmin went on, 
and found his way to where some Hindus dwelt. These were kind, 
but tried to dissuade him from changing his religion. The Goorkha 
was, however, evidently a boy of strong character. He made his 
way to a train, the first which he had ever entered, and reached 
Calcutta at last. 

' Here he wandered from place to place, to find a school. Pro- 
vidence at last put the boy under the kind, almost paternal, care 

of the Rev. B., who nursed him through illness, and fed him 

himself The Brahmin at first chose only to drink milk ; evidently 
he still clung to caste. However, his prejudices wore away. Mr. 
B. took the lad on an itinerating tour, and afterwards placed him 

at school, first at C , afterw-ards at R . At R our boy, 

after receiving more religious instruction, — for he says that he knew 
very little, — was baptized by the name of J. After a while he was 
sent to Batala. ... I hope that after a while he will study at a 
Theological College, and become a Catechist and Missionary to his 
own people. J. has written two or three times to his parents, but 
his letters have been returned. . . . 

' I am writing very early this week, as I propose starting for 
Murree to-morrow\' 

* MURREE, y^^/y II. — On Friday week I propose beginning my 
homeward flight to Batala. It will be a different sort of life at the 
Gurub-i-Aftab. Here there are morning callers, and afternoon 
visitors, and luncheons, and tea-parties, and many a box-wala^ or 
kapra-wala brings his wares, to tempt us, spreading out a variety 
of pretty things. . . . One of my pleasures is to see the lovely fair 
blue-eyed children going about with their ayahs. I am so much 
accustomed to see brown babies, that some of the English ones 
look to me almost like cherubs. The church-going is a great grati- 
fication ; it is so nice to have prayers and sermon in English, and 
I greatly enjoy the hymns. ... I enjoy my quiet morning walks 
in the lovely wooded paths on the hills. This house is very con- 
veniently situated near the church ; so one does not require much 
vwunting^ which is tiring. I do not attempt long walks, but stroll 
about. My dear Rowland and Helen have had much anxiety about 
their Httle Robin.' 

' Batala, Aug. 9, 1888.— As our Dr. Miss Sahiba, Minnie, is away, 
I have now and then to try my 'prentice hand a little, but in a very 

1 Pedlar. 



442 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

humble, cautious way. I have nothing to do with making pills, 
but have invested in big bottles of castor-oil and turpentine. I 
have quinine, of course, and ammonia in case of bites or stings. 
I don't revel in physic, like Minnie ; and dimness of sight and 
want of steadiness of hand do not serve to make me more fit to 
add Doctor to my name. What a blessing it is that some people 
actually like doctoring ! I remember saying to my . . . kind- 
hearted , now a doctor, that operations must be trying. " I 

like them," was his simple, truthful reply. Well — Buckland liked 
playing with snails and snakes. De gustibiis noii disptita7idum P 

On September the loth, speaking of a planned trip to 
Lahore, to see her nephew and niece, she continues : — 

' I propose after parting with the dear ones to sleep at the 
Mission House at Amritsar, and to-morrow go to the hospital, to 
see my dear ayah, Hannah, whom we sent there, not knowing that 
— as we fear — a deadly illness is on her. Dear, gentle, loving 
Hannah ! she has served me faithfully for about seven years ; and 
in all that time I cannot remember her doing one wrong thing, or 
saying one wrong word. A humble, gentle Christian, good wife, 
good mother, — ah ! she is a sad loss to her family of seven, . . . 
and also to your loving Char.' 

''Nov. I. 1888. — The first of November, darling Laura, and I am 
preparing for cold weather. I have taken my chhota janwar^ (little 
animal, alias dear Fred's splendid foot-muff) out of its bag, to keep 
my feet warm in the morning, before my bath is ready. Eiderdown 
petticoat, etc., etc. O luxurious Char ! It was a pleasure to me 
to-day to pay F., my new ayah, her first month's wages ; there was 
a pleasant, half-grateful look in her eyes. ... I like paying wages. 

' My last dear ayah is not forgotten. I have given orders for 
a modest little monument of brick and mortar, to mark where 
Hannah sleeps. We have no stones here. I went to the cemetery 
with the mason, ... to give directions, and was struck by finding 
a tiny but touching memorial already on the spot. A very little 
wooden Cross, covered with paper, to facilitate the writing of an 
inscription. There was the date, of course in Urdu, and " Not 
dead, but sleepeth " ; and " The Lord gave ; the Lord hath taken 
away ; blessed be the Name of the Lord." This tribute of love had 
been placed over his dear Mother's grave by J., the eldest son 

1 So named by the Natives. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 443 

here, a lad of about fourteen. I mean to keep to his inscription, 
when the humble monument is placed over Hannah's dust. Dear 
woman ! she was of the meek and quiet spirits who are precious 
to the Lord.' 

^ Nov. 23. — The last mail brought me letters both from my loved 
Laura and dear Leila ; to both many thanks. My sunstroke was 
nothing to tell you about ; for though I was sickening two days, 
the illness only lasted about six hours, and left, thank God, no dregs 
behind. I awoke quite serene from the state which had so alarmed 
my good friends, was able that very day to hold a little Bible-meet- 
ing, and to go to my city-work next day.' 

About this time Mrs. Herbert Weitbrecht, who was then 
in England, wrote to Mrs. Hamilton, upon the question of 
Miss Tucker being advised to go home. As will be seen 
from the following little extract, her view was strongly 
adverse to this step. 

' For one thing, the cold, in which Mrs. revels, would try the 

Auntie very severely. But there is more than this. You know she 
used to speak very freely to me ; and I have a strong impression 
that she did not let you and her other friends at home know how 
much she suffered from the parting, how great a wrench it was to 
her. She used to say that she . . . dreaded above everything the 
thought of having to go through such partings again.' 

Probably no persuasions would have induced Miss 
Tucker to return. She had steadily made up her mind 
that in India she w^ould live and die. Unless, indeed, 
she should be called elsewhere ! At this very time she 
was deeply interested in the Andaman Islands, over which 
her nephew, Major Louis Tucker, had been appointed 
Chief Commissioner. On learning that a Mission among 
the Convicts was sorely needed there, she is said to have 
offered herself for the purpose, — if she could do good by 
going. Probably she thought of it as merely a temporary 
thing ; as inaugurating, not as carrying on permanently, 
the work. But at her age, and in her feeble health, the 
very suggestion shows marvellous courage and energy. 



444 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

The next letter is about a difficult case in England : 
a young Indian, with whom Mrs. Hamilton was ac- 
quainted : — 

''Dec. I, — I have not answered your letter about poor O. in haste. 
I received it the day before yesterday. Perhaps you will not like 
my thoughts ; but you had better know them, sweet sister. . . . 

'It is a characteristic of the Native character to have little sense 
of sin. A conscience seems a thing to be created. Q. does 
not seem to see how grievously he has sinned, is sinning. He is 
clearly denying the Lord Who bought him ; and that for worldly 
gain. Darling Laura, have you quite realised the greatness of the 
sin? To my view it was a mistake to ask Q. to dinner. "With 
such an one, no, not so much as to eat." Until Q. deeply repents, 
he is not fit to sit at your table. . . . 

'You may cite the Parable of the Prodigal Son. That is exactly 
what I would cite for my view of the subject. Poor Q., if 
a son, is the Prodigal Son, beginning to be in want, and hiring 
himself out, — feeding swine. If, when he was longing for even 
husks, he had been coaxed and asked out to dinner, would he ever 
have "come to himself," would he ever have cried, "I will arise, 
and go to my Father?" Was it easy for him to go, in a far country, 
as he was ? Was he not ready to sacrifice his pride, and go amongst 
his Father's servants as a beggar? If Q. would have the Prodigal's 
reception, he must do what the Prodigal did. 

' Perhaps my Laura will remind me of St. Paul's injunction to 
the Corinthians to take back and " comfort " a gross sinner. But, 
remember, that man had first had some mysterious terrible punish- 
ment, — " delivered over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh," — 
and he was so deeply penitent, that there was danger of his being 
"swallowed up with overmuch sorrow." When Q. repents like that^ 
let us all receive him and comfort him.' 

Some may count this letter stern, viewed in the light of 
modern lax and easy notions. But Charlotte Tucker knew 
what she was about. She was living, at Batala, in the 
First Century of Christianity. Things would often be 
very differently viewed by us in England, if we could 
see them from the standpoint of the First instead of the 
Nineteenth Century. 



CHAPTER XVII 

A.D. 1 888- 1 890 

THE DAILY ROUND 

The year 1888 closed with another sharp attack of ill- 
ness, not so severe or so prolonged as that of 1885, but 
sufficient to cause anxiety. On the i6th of December, 
though ' far from well,' Charlotte Tucker went to church 
as usual ; but all her ' wraps upon wraps could not keep 
her from catching cold.' On the 21st, Mr. Bateman, 
reaching Amritsar, was much disturbed by the arrival of a 
telegram from Batala, requesting Dr. H. M. Clark to go over 
immediately, as Miss Tucker was in high fever. There 
was some hesitation whether to start at once by ekka, or 
to wait for the early morning train ; and the latter plan 
was decided upon. When Dr. Clark went, Mr. Bateman 
accompanied him ; and he wrote to Mrs. Hamilton on 
the 23 rd : — 

'We reached Batala — " Sonnenschein " — together at 10.30 yester- 
day. The Auntie was reported sleeping without fever. She woke about 
1 1 ; and Dr. Clark, after seeing her, telegraphed, " No immediate 
anxiety," to Mr. Clark, who on receipt would decide whether to go 
to Batala, or to come here (Lahore) for the "Quiet Day." The 
Auntie was very much pleased at my going over, and would not 
rest again till I had been into her room. She is in a comfortable, 
warm room. To my uninitiated eye she seemed to have everything 
about her which she could desire. ... As I passed into the room 
Dr. Clark passed out, and behind the screen he whispered, " She 

is all right," She met me with almost a shout of welcome, and 

445 



446 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

said a number of quasi-comic solemnities, squeezing my hands with 
great energy. She was a little flushed, and owned that she was 
weak, but as far as appearances went I have often seen her look 
worse when in full work. I felt very happy about her ; but Dr. 
Clark said that there was a blueness and a twitching about the lips 
which he did not like, and that she was very weak. His "All right," 
he said afterwards, meant only, "You may safely go in." The fever 
kept off all day, and only returned about four in the afternoon. . . . 
It was 105 on Friday night. ... I noticed that she is very much more 
amenable to discipline than before. She admits that she can't walk 
or write decently, and she takes her medicine, including five grains of 
qainine, every three hours, very carefully and with great docility. . . .' 

One little remark that she made to Mr. Bateman was, 
' Thank God, He has made me quite comfortable ' ; 
and again, ' I don't find that I can pray to God about 
myself; for I don't know what to say.' 

' You are in a strait betwixt two,' suggested Mr. Bateman. 

Miss Tucker did not like this, and she showed that 
she did not. Her friend adds, ' I attribute the slight 
twinge it gave her to her habitual dislike to being thought 
so well of, as that she might appropriate an Apostolic 
utterance.' 

Another observation was as to the ' Quiet Day ' in 
Lahore, — she was having a ' Quiet Week ' given to her 
at Batala instead. 

Some slight memoranda of things that dropped from 
her were jotted down at the time by Miss Dixie. " Nil 
Desperandum ' was often quoted in this and other ill- 
nesses ; also she would generally try to sing ' Charlie is 
my Darling,' — no doubt a reminiscence of her old Stuart 
enthusiasm. 

With reference to a Muhammadan school which had 
been shut some months before : ' The Muhammadans have 
done us a good turn ! They have rubbed hard against 
our shield, and have caused our motto on it to shine 
bright' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 447 

' My little musician is playing all clay,' she said once. 
She was asked, ' What kind of tunes ? ' ' Now — " The 
Heavens are Telling." The harmony is beautiful. I can 
hear every note ! ' She was asked again, ' Does it play 
on its own account, or do you express a wish for special 
tunes?' ' It is sometimes wilful,' Miss Tucker said, ' and 
plays, " Charlie is my Darling," when I would rather it 
played something else. It plays tunes I have not heard 
since I was a child, — so correctly, — all in harmony ! ' One 
of her favourite hymns in illness was ' Peace, perfect 
peace ' ; — but she ' did not like the last verse ; it con- 
tradicted what went before.' 

Happening to speak about different kinds of love, she 
observed, — ' There is a passion, not a love, which I have 
known some women to have for another. That is not 
wholesome ; it is a passion, not love.' Again, on the 
question of bringing others to Christ, — ' We are onl}^ the 
housemaids ! We open the door ; but they come in, and 
go themselves up to the King.' 

It was either after this illness, or after another of the 
same type that she said, ' I have felt that a beautiful 
Wing has been spread over me, which is lined with down 
and stitched with gold ; and I am quite safe. Nothing 
can harm me so long as I remain under it ! ' Somebody 
rather unnecessarily remarked, ' But it is our own fault 
if we do not remain under it.' ' No,' Miss Tucker 
replied, ' we can't say that. Satan does give us a pull 
sometimes.' She was reminded that God's ' favour is 
always towards us ' ; but again she asserted the undeni- 
able truth that God does sometimes permit His servants 
to be thus tried. 

A long letter from herself to Mrs. Hamilton is dated 
December 21st, or two days before that written by Mr. 
Bateman, and apparently the very day on which Dr. 
Clark was summoned by telegram to Batala, This must 



448 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

have been a slip. The handwriting is shaky, but she 
speaks of her illness as past. With reference to the 
beginning of the latter, she says : — 

'When in the afternoon (of the i6th) it was evident that I was 
seriously ill, the effect was magical. Up went my spirits like a 
balloon, — the curious effect which severe illness seems to have 
naturally upon me. . . . To be bright and cheerful in sickness and 
suffering costs me nothing, for it seems to come naturally ; but I 
dare say that I get credit for a great deal of grace. It is so difficult 
for others, so difficult for ourselves, to distinguish between Nature 
and Grace.' 

One may perhaps add that it is also unnecessary to 
do so, — unnecessary as regards ourselves, and utterly im- 
possible as regards others. Better to leave such questions 
in the Hands of Him with Whom alone 'all things are 
naked and opened.' But evidently the subject had been 
much in Miss Tucker's mind. The long letter is half 
full of it. 

On January 4 she wrote : — 

' Now I dare say that you will want to hear how I am. Wonder- 
fully well, though, of course, not strong. I went a short distance 
in my duli to-day. My late illness has quite convinced me that 
God has given me a capital constitution. I had, apparently, so 
much against steady recovery. Yet — there is no doubt of it — I am 
recovering. Except rather more weakness of the eyes and slight 
loss of flesh, no dregs seem left.' 

' BATALA,y<«;z. 24, 1889. — Many thanks for the printed extract from 
good Mr. Clifford's letter about the cure for leprosy. ... I dare 
say that it is a valuable medicine when properly used ; but probably 
the secret of its great success in the Andamans is that it was tried 
on convicts, who dared not refuse to rub themselves properly. Mr. 
Clifford writes that the exercise is part of the remedy ; but I think 
that it would be wellnigh impossible to persuade free lepers to 
rub themselves for four hours daily. They would greatly prefer 
leprosy and begging. Do you not know of the Indian mother who, 
when one of the Mission ladies told her to rub oil over her poor 
sick child's body, refused to take such trouble? " I have another !" 
said she. With dear good Father Damien it would be different.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 449 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

''Feb. 1 6. — The wood-pigeons are cooing, the little peach-trees dis- 
playing pink blossoms, the fields are green with young corn. Perhaps 
you will half envy us when you read this ; but you would hardly envy 
us six weeks hence. . . . 

' In Mission life so much depends on one's companions. . . . One 
must not expect too much, for all Missionaries are fallible. One 
should remember one's own infirmities, and make allowance for 
those of others. In India we seem to live in glass houses ; people 
are so well known ; such a one is quick-tempered, such a one — but you 
can imagine what it is. There is little privacy even in the dwellings. 
There is no hall ; the upper part of the outer door is glass ; people see 
through, tap, and walk in. . . . India is a good place for preventing 
one from growing stiff and precise, and determined not to be put 
out of one's way. At Batala especially there is no starch.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''May 2. — I could give you curious anecdotes of the Ramazan, the 
grand Muhammadan Fast, which has now begun. Minnie tells me of 
women in an ostentatious way bringing their bottles, as if for medi- 
cine, to the Dispensary ; and then saying that they cannot take it — 
it is their fast. Why did they come then ? To be admired for piety I 
Others come, looking rather piteous, though perhaps not really ill, 
that the Doctor Miss Sahiba may y^'r^/^ them to fast. ]\Iinnie asked 
one woman whether she fasted. " I am poor ; what can I do?" was the 
helpless reply. One not acquainted with the case might interpret this 
as, " I am helpless — I am only too often obligedlo fast." It really means, 
" I am too poor to fast." You might imagine fasting to be rather econo- 
mical. Quite the reverse ! For instance, the whom Minnie em- 
ploys is laying out a whole month's salary in food for the fast, to have 
it extra good. She will have two meat meals every night, to make up 
for not eating in the day. Does it not remind one of the Pharisees ? ' 

Miss Tucker's birthday this year was signalised by the 
Baptism of one of the servants, and his whole family, 
including a little brown baby. After describing the event 
to her sister, with great delight, she added, — ' Of course 
the new Christians were all invited to the simple feast 
under a moonlit sky, which dear Babu Singha gave in my 
honour. It certainly was one of the best, if not the very 
best birthday, kept by your now aged but truly loving Char.' 
2F 



450 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

' May 30. — These last two mornings I have gone to help Miss Dixie 
by reading to her patients in the waiting-room of her Dispensary. 
There should always be some one to read, talk, sing, and keep order. 
Dear good Rosie Singha is wanted to make up medicines. I do not 
know what poor Minnie would do without her. ... It is strange 
what difficulty we have in getting Native helpers for her (Miss Dixie) 
. . . You will have seen in the papers that noble devoted Father 
Damien has sunk to rest ; his form sleeps in a leper's grave. What 
a wonderful life and death was his ! ' 

' Simla, y//;z^ 13. — Here is Char in Simla, the queen city of the 
mountain ; but I do not think that I shall see much of it. I have a 
nice quiet walk near, commanding a noble view ; and I go backwards 
and forwards along it, not troubling myself at all with climbing or 
sight-seeing. The air is very pure and fine ; so I drink it in, and if 
anything is to give strength it ought to do so. . . . There seems to 
be a great deal of etiquette here, — people placed exactly according 
to rank at the grand parties, ... I do not care much for what are 
really trifles, and am thankful that I have not to go out and be gay. 
I make the most of my age, which enables me, as it were, to sit 
quietly in a corner, and not even take the fatigue of rounds of visits. 
A lady had paid sixteen in one day, she said. Evidently, it is a 
matter of congratulation to find friends (?) not at home. . . . We 
take our meals at a table d'hote, happily a quiet one. I sit between 
Louis and Lettie, so hardly speak to any one else, for I am shy of 
conversing across the table.' 

''July 18. — Your " running about," love, has been on a milder scale 
than mine. On Friday last, knowing that I was to rise at about 
3 A.M. (after a dinner-party at the C.'s), I did not entirely undress. 
Miss Warren and I started on our long journey downhill by the dim 
light of a clouded moon. Laziness might have made us miss the 
evening train, for we had nearly a hundred miles' drive, in a succes- 
sion of vehicles, to reach it ; and we knew not what the state of 
the road might be. 

' Vehicles, did I write ? Would you call an elephant a vehicle ? 
We came to a place where there was a good deal of water ; the Gogra 
swollen by the rains. We were requested to quit the heavy gari, and 
go across on an elephant. The nice docile creature knelt down ; and 
a man actually wished us to clamber up by its tail ! He grasped it, so 
as to form a kind of loop for me to put my foot in ! But I objected 
to this method of mounting, and managed to scramble up by means 
of a kind of big bag hung across the animal. There was no saddle 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 451 

or howdah ; but the beast's back was broad, its pace gentle, and we 
held on by ropes fastened across the elephant. The good creature 
well deserved the two biscuits with which it was rewarded.' 

The following letter was with respect to two young 
Indians, in whom Mrs. Hamilton had been much interested. 
One might hesitate to quote it, in fear of giving pain to 
the really true-hearted among Indian Christians ; but 
they are not referred to ! It seems necessary to show that 
Miss Tucker, despite her readiness always to think the 
best of people, was by no means always easily taken in ; 
and that she gained wisdom through sad experience : — 

' Batala, y///y 31. — I hare received the following reply from 

about that Native in whom you have so long taken kindly, I fear 
little merited, interest. You do not yet, darling, know how little it 
costs Indians to write or speak in a way to please. They deceive 
even old experienced Missionaries. . . . 

' It seems almost cruel to throw cold water on my Laura's warm 
generous feelings, but I confess to an impression that Natives try to 
deceive one so much more pure-minded and honest than themselves. 
We get so grievously deceived and disappointed here, where we have 
much better opportunities of judging. But I hope that your 

may prove one of the real jewels which are — though not so often 

as we could wish — to be found amongst Orientals. 

''Aug. I. — Yesterday's post brought me a loving letter from my 

Laura. ... A man ^ whom my Laura calls " my friend, ," ought to 

turn out a fine fellow at last. Of course I cannot judge if the going 
to Paris will be good or not. I do not like hiding colours when a man 
has been baptized. With secret believers some indulgence is some- 
times needed ; but after Baptism, it seems to me that to pass for a Mu- 
hammadan is a sign — of danger at least. But you will talk over the 
subject with Rowland. Five minutes with him will be better than five 
long letters from me. O my Laura, I have so learned to mistrust my- 
self, my judgment, my disposition ; and I have been particularly tried 
this year by inconsistency in those of whom I had thought highly.' 

TO Miss MINNIE DIXIE. 

' Atig. 17, 1889. 
'J. D., exemplary young man, has put all three harmoniums to 
rights. He says that the largest has 223 tongues, and that 25 were 

1 Not the same as spoken of in earlier part of this letter. 



452 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

dumb. Perhaps I have not given the numbers quite correctly, but 
nearly so. A live scorpion was found in our drawing-room instru- 
ment. It cleverly managed to get away, but was happily found and 
killed. There was a regularly-conducted Batala Feast yesterday, 
given by M. in honour of Baby Baring's second birthday. As I 
walked towards the Singhas, I spoke with regret of the nice old- 
fashioned feasts, which seem to have gone out, when every one sat on 
the ground. Pleased was I to behold the cloth laid in the verandah, 
with no tables ! We were to have an old-fashioned feast, after alh 
And a very nice one it was ! About forty partook of it. To-day my 
nephew gives a smaller party in honour of his dear wife's birthday.' 

TO THE REV. F. H. BARING. 

''Nov. 14, 1889. 
' I must give you good news. Another sheaf laid, by God's grace, 
on our Mission Plough. A nice gentlemanly young Brahmin from 
that school, K. K., openly received Baptism in the large Church last 
Sunday. As notice had been given to his family, there was such a 
tamasha as I had never seen in Batala before. Crowds gathered 
behind the extempore barricade to divide off the heathen in the 
Church — line above line of turbaned heads ; and the doors were 
thronged. Without exaggeration, there must have been at least 200 
people, besides us Christians. R. C, K. B., and A. B. (all converts) 
made very dashing daring extempore policemen to keep the Hindus 
from swarming in. The font was very near the sort of barricade ; 
so our young candidate had to face the crowd, — amongst them 
one or two angry members of his family, — at the distance of only 
about two yards ; but he bore himself like a hero, giving all 
his answers in a clear distinct tone. The most exciting part 
was getting our lad out of the church and safe off! The Hindus 
tried to stop and make the horse back ; our boys pushed on behind 
with energy ; and at last the tum-tum was off and away. I would 
not have missed the scene for something.' 

Before entering on the correspondence of 1890, the 
following verses may be given, written in the course of 
that year for Batala boys ; spirited in style as ever, though 
Charlotte Tucker was now verging on the age of 
seventy : — 

A GENTLEMAN. 

' What is it makes a Gentleman ? 'Tis not his high estate. 
His liveried footmen, or the grooms that on his orders wait, — 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 453 

The horses and the carriages that stand before his gate, 
The tenants who bow low to him, and think him very great. 
Chorus — 
These do not make the Gentleman, whate'er his station be ! 

'What is it makes a Gentleman ? Not colour of his skin, — 
The Negro, black as ebony, may yet be fair within ; 
The weak, the lowly, and the poor, a glorious race may win, — 
There's nothing makes a man so low as cowardice and sin ! 
CJwriis — 

He cannot be a Gentleman, whate'er his station be ! 

'What is it makes a Gentleman ? His dress is not the sign, — 
Though on each finger of each hand a jewelled ring may shine ; 
His necktie may be elegant — his boots be superfine — 
Howe'er you dress a monkey. Sir, he is no friend of mine. 
Chorus — 

He cannot be a Gentleman, whate'er his station be ! 

'The real Gentleman is he whose aims are pure and high ; 
Who scorns a base dishonest act, and tramples on a lie ; 
Who treats the woman and the child with gentle courtesy. 
Who holds the Christian's faith and hope, so does not fear to die ! 
Chorus — 

He is the real Gentleman, whate'er his station be I ' 

All these years, off and on, Charlotte Tucker's pen had 
been at work ; and probably nothing that she ever wrote 
was of greater importance than the many tiny little book- 
lets for translation into the various languages of India. 
After being composed by her in English they were 
rendered by competent persons into Urdu, Panjabi, Hindi, 
Bengali, Tamil, and were published at exceedingly low 
prices, to be sold by hundreds of thousands among the 
Natives of the country. Many were brought out by the 
Christian Literature Society for India, many more by the 
Punjab Religious Book Society. A small report of the 
latter Society, so early as about iZjj-'jZ^ speaks of thirty- 
seven of A. L. O. E.'s tiny booklets as already published, 
and of fresh editions being in some cases already called 
for. A letter to her English Publishers, Messrs. Nelson 



454 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

& Sons, early in 1890, gives interesting information on the 
subject : — 

^'Qh.TKLA, Jajt. 18, 1890. 

' I am much pleased to hear that Beyo7id the Black Waters is out 
at last, and return you many thanks for the copies for presentation, 
kindly sent for me. 

' The subject of " cheap editions " of works published long ago is of 
great interest to me. I am hving in an immense country, swarming 
with Muhammadans, Hindus, and Infidels, where Government is 
educating tens of thousands of lads, without giving them any rehgious 
instruction. . . . An evident breakwater for the waves of impiety and 
sedition is religious literature. But it must be very cheap, or hardly 
any Natives will buy it. I saw long ago in a Report of the Christian 
Vernacular Society, that for 07ie book costing, if I remember rightly, 
about threepence, forty are sold costing a pie, less than a farthing.^ 
I resolved to write one-pie stories ; did so ; and thousands and tens 
of thousands have been sold. 

'A lady here has told me that The Yoimg PilgiHin is out of print ; 
she has vainly attempted to buy it. A cheap edition of that might, 
by God's blessing, be useful in India. Good paper is not needed ; 
but clear type and a bright cover, — not pink, as that soon fades in India. 

' As I went along in my duli, a kind of square box carried by men, 
to-day, to visit villages, I thought that the Giant-Killer — only the 
parable part, which would make a very moderate-sized book — might 
have a large circulation here. Natives like parables ; and though the 
English portion of the volume, describing the Roby family, might not 
be suited to Oriental readers, Giant Sloth, Selfishness, etc., are quite 
as troublesome in India as in England. Would 5'ou like to make an 
experiment with this small publication ? If so, I should gladly myself 
purchase for poor India ^10 of cheap copies, — not more than six- 
pence each, — to be sent as from me to the Christian Vernacular 
Society's House, Madras. As soon as I heard of the parcel being 
shipped, I would send the cheque.' 

When Miss Tucker was first starting for India, her 
brother, Mr. Henry Carre Tucker, had written to her upon 
the subject of literature for that land ; and a short quota- 
tion from his letter may be appropriately given here. 
' The great thing at present,' he wrote, ' is to disseminate 

1 More strictly, about one-twelfth of a penny. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 455 

widely Christian Vernacular Literature in all the languages, 
and suitable to the requirements of all classes, men, women, 
and children ; rich and poor ; educated and ignorant. 
Government is rapidly teaching most of the boys to read. 
We Christians must provide them with a wholesome 
literature. Few women and girls can be reached person- 
ally, but books penetrate everywhere, and may do an 
untold amount of secret silent good. The preparation and 
distribution of such Literature ought to be your great 
object. You might organise Female Colporteurs for the 
Zenanas and womenkind.' This last suggestion Miss 
Tucker does not seem ever to have taken up, or attempted 
to carry out. 

Books for English readers still went on appearing from 
time to time. In 1885 she published Pictures of St. Paul ] 
and in 1886 Pictures of St. Peter followed. In 1887 came 
The Fairy in a Web, and Driven into Exile. The year 
1888 also saw two — The Hartley Brothers, and Harold's 
Bride, both being continuations of the two Picture volumes, 
named above. In 1889 Beyond the Black Waters was 
brought out ; in 1 890 The Blacksmith of Boniface Lane ; 
in 1 89 1 The Lron Chain and the Golden ; and in 1892 The 
Forlorn Hope. When one considers her age, her failing 
health, and her ceaseless Zenana toil, one cannot but 
be astonished at the mental energy shown in getting 
through such an amount of writing as this. 

On the 17th of February Miss Maria Hoernle left 
Batala, with the purpose of soon proceeding to England ; 
and Miss Tucker wrote next day : — 

' So closes a leaf of my life ; for I doubt whether I shall again see 
on Earth one who nursed me too devotedly in 1885. Maria prefers 
Bengal to the Panjab ; so, if she return, we have hardly a chance of 
meeting, unless perhaps at some Hill-Station. ... I wonder if my 
dear Bhatija Francis Baring will ever return to India. He was for 
long my sole European companion. . , . Think of sixty-five Com- 
municants last Sunday in Batala I We never had so many before. 



456 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

. . . The Bishop was pleased, — though tired by his village tour, 
seeing the seven little congregations of the Batala district.' 

' March 7. — You must not think of converts, love, as the fruits of my 
labour, but that, by God's blessing, of others. I have so many 
Zenanas and villages, with limited strength, that hardly one place 
gets more than one visit from me in a month, some not even that ! 
My employment is trying to pull up weeds that cumber, and to sow 
good seed ; but I hare no time to wafer^ — or very little, so far as 
Zenanas are concerned.' 

The 8th of May, Miss Tucker's sixty-ninth birthday, 
passed quietly, without the usual feasting, on account of 
the death, three days before, of Babu Singha's wife, who, 
as Miss Tucker wrote, — ' fell asleep in Jesus,' after some 
twenty-eight years of happy married life. The letter of 
May 8 is very full of sympathy with the bereaved husband 
and the nine children. In the latter half of the same 
letter, finished next day, comes the mention of ' another 
book' just written. 'I am making out the fair copy in 
my seventieth year. I have regarded Beyond the Black 
Waters as my chrysanthemum, a winter plant, lingering on 
even till December. But my Blacksmith of Boniface Lane 
must be a little sprig of holly. It has its prickles and its 
red berries. It has a historical — I suppose that I should 
say — root, not basis.' 

TO Miss ' LEILA ' HAMILTON. 

'' fune 4, 1890. 
' We had a very uncommon visitor, who came at about 4 A.M. on the 
1st of June. I do not think that he ever came before. What say you to 
a Bagh-i-bilae, or Tiger-cat? He wanted to steal Miss Dixie's chickens, 
but lost his own life, — six men succeeding in the difficult task of killing 
the fierce beast. We have kept his skin, which measures three feet 
five inches from the tip of the nose to the end of his rather shabby 
tail ; so you see that he was a remarkable cat. The colour pale grey, 
with a darker stripe down the back. There must have been another 
curious visitor, and one who also left his skin, but without giving any 
one the trouble of killing him. The day after the death of the Bagh- 
i-bilae, Minnie found in her bath-room the overcoat of a snake about 
four feet long. He has made us a present of it; for there is no use 
in advertising for the owner of the skin. He gives it us gratis ! ' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 457 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'MURREE, June 27, 1890. 

'This day fortnight I expect to start on my long journey to Batala. 
. . . Life in a large Hill-Station is hardly congenial to an old Missionary. 
It is curious how poverty is pleaded here by the gay and fashionable, 
who live in goodly houses, entertain elegantly, ride nice horses, dress 
well, etc. " Every one is poor at Murree," — that is to say, when money 
is required for religious or charitable purposes. L. is collecting for 
Lady Dufferin's Fund ; a rich man's response was that the journey to 
Murree had cost him so much ! The poor Chaplain complained 
from the pulpit of the shabby collections for the Lahore Cathedral.' 

In her letter of July 2 she wrote, — having been told of 
shaking her head in Church at something that she dis- 
approved, — ' I am trying to cure myself of that trick.' It 
had grown to be so frequent a habit, that one of her 
younger companions had already mentioned the tendency. 
If anything was said which she did not quite like, or even 
if in thought she recurred to something which she 
regretted, she would say nothing, but would sit silent, 
gently shaking her head. On being remonstrated with, she 
showed no annoyance, but at once said cheerfully, — ' When 
I shake my head, you must rap the table ! ' The genuine 
humility of this answer is even more remarkable than the 
fact that, at her age, she should soon have entirely over- 
come the peculiarity. 

On July 16 she described herself as ' in a frisky mood, 
on account of getting back to Batala, and finding things 
so nice here, weather included ; ' — and a little later, ' It is 
so nice to be amongst my brown Christian boys again ! ' 

''Aug. 22, 1890. — I must amuse you and dear Leila by a little 
Oriental episode. A nice simple young widow, called W., is being 
prepared for Baptism. Female converts, who have not husbands, 
are specially welcome, as there is a great difficulty to poorer 
Christians about getting wives. Even before W.'s baptism, there- 
fore, wished to secure her for a favourite convert. I spoke for 

him to W., and she consented just to see M. N., being assured that, 
if either she or he were not satisfied, there should be no marriage. 



458 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

As we are very proper here, the important interview took place in my 
presence ; but I went a Httle aside, so as to be no gene. The man 
seemed very sensible and nice. He began religious conversation at 
once, questioning the girl to whom he was paying his addresses, as 
a Pastor might have done with a candidate for baptism. 

' So long as the wooer kept to this, all appeared going on well. 
M. N. questioned, and W. answered in her simple innocent fashion. 
But when something more personal was said, — I did not hear what, 
but I suppose that its gist was, " Will you marry me ? " — I felt that 
there was some sticking, and came to the rescue. I asked W. if she 
were willing ; and a little in the spirit, though not in the words of 
the old song — 

' "Amazed was the laird, when the lady said — ' Na ! ' " 

' I was surprised, and so I think was the visitor. I asked again, 
to make sure ; and again came a quiet decided negative. So of 
course I let "Mistress Jean" "turn awa'." . . . W. has a perfect 
right to say " Na," if she prefer a life of sewing, grinding corn, etc., 
to trying matrimony a second time. I like her the better for her 
independent spirit.' 

''Aug. 28. — I think that this August has been the pleasantest 
month that I have spent this year. The temperature, quite unusually 
mild for August, suits me admirably ; for my idea of a perfect 
temperature is from 80° to 85° in the house. It is getting into the 9o°s 
that is trying. There is a good deal of sickness about from damp, 
but damp does not appear to hurt me, and it makes the air so soft.' 

"" Sept. 12. — I have written through dear Leila my triple thanks for 
the very elegant tasteful dress and pretty jacket. The cloud I am 
keeping for Minnie, whom I hope to see back on Tuesday. The 
women in Batala will be so glad to have the "Star" open again. 
Dear sweet Daisy Key and I will be glad too to have the doctoring 
in the compound taken off our hands. Some one or other seems to 
be perpetually ill. Castor-oil and quinine have to be freely used. 
Happily both are easily procured, especially the first. . . . 

'As I was walking in the city early one morning,^ a party of 
Government schoolboys passed me, marching in order, in evident 
imitation of our Christian boys. A minute or two afterwards a very 
respectable-looking middle-aged Native, probably their master, ran 
after me. I halted, to know what he wanted ; and something like 
this curious conversation passed between us, in English, — 

1 Miss Tucker had become by this time less strict in her earlier rule of never 
walking in the city. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 459 

' Master. " I beg your pardon. Do you pronounce opiate or 
opiate .^ " 

'I. "Opiate." 

' M. " Who were the Jacobins .^" 

' I. " Bad men, who cut off other people's heads." 

* M. " Were they Roman Catholics or Protestants ? " 

' I. "Neither. They had no religion." 

' M. "Were Jacobins connected with Jacobites?" 

' I. " No ; those were followers of King James." 

' M. "One more — what is 'Black eye/ — 'give a black eye?' I 
cannot find it in the dictionary." 

' To this funny question also I gave a brief answer, and then my 
volunteer pupil left me, — I hope satisfied with his lesson.' 

''Oct. 14, 1890. — The shadow of consumption which may end 
fatally is on two dear Native Christians here. One is R. U., a well- 
educated Convert from Narowal, who has suffered much for the Faith. 
The other is dear Babu Singha's youngest daughter, Bini, The 
death of her loved mother in May was a terrible shock to Bini. 
Babu Singha, a most tender father, has gently intimated to his 
darling child that perhaps she may be the first to see that dear 
mother again. Bini is quite pleased at the thought. . . . 

' But oh, Laura, we have had in our INIission lately something 
worse, oh, so much worse ! It has been as startling as a sudden 
thunder-clap. K. K., the young Brahmin, over whose baptism we so 
rejoiced, who seemed so brave, so true, who sat at our table . . . and 
actually has been employed to teach the Bible., . . . he has apostatised ; 
he has become a fearful illustration of our Lord's most terrible 
parable, — " then taketh he (Satan) others more wicked than himself," 
etc. I am beginning to believe that this wilful apostasy, after clear 
light given, is what is spoken of in Heb. vi. I can remember no 
example, either in the Bible or Mission-life, of any apostate deliber- 
ately choosing to forsake Christ, after being received and welcomed, 
being " renewed unto repentance." We have had so many dreadful 
backsliders, — who have never returned. Alas ! alas ! ... In no case 
fear the motive, but worldliness or covetousness. When to my 
surprise I heard that K. K. had fallen, my spirit could not readily 
recover. . . . Poor dear N. C. began his sermon on Sunday 
something like this, — " My spirit is heavy ; I am very sorrowful." 
It was a brave sermon, nevertheless, about "holding the fort." But 
now he is the only Christian teacher in his school ; and we have to 
face the mockery of the exulting foe ! The matter is of course known 



46o LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

all over the city. But the Lord reigns, and all enemies shall — must 
— be put under His Feet. Amongst those who will rejoice will be 
those who are saddened now, like your loving Char.' 

' Oct. 25. — I want to tell you and dear Leila about the trial in the 
Singha family, but wish to wait till I have had to-day's report of the 
state of Bini, the dear girl about fifteen, who appears to be dying of 
consumption. Bini has perhaps never recovered from the effects 
of the shock caused to her loving heart by her mother, Mrs. Singha's, 
unexpected death. The poor child, arriving at the Batala station, 
heard suddenly that her mother was dead. 

^ Later. — I have just come from the Singhas. Bini lingers still on 
this side of the river. She is more to be envied than pitied. On 
Thursday, two days ago, her pain ceased. . . . She was " quite happy," 
" quite ready," " why delay ? " . . . Last night must have been a 
glorious night for Bini. She spoke to this effect, — " I have been in 
Heaven, and saw Jesus Christ and my Mother. I did not see the 
others ; they were there, but sofuewhere upstairsP When some one 
spoke to Bini of her " dream," she did not like the word. " It was not 
a dream," she said. . . . If this be death, it is a blessed thing indeed!' 

''Oct. 31. — You will see from my note to dear Mr. Baring that 
sweet Bini's long trial is over. With what joy she departed ! I am 
telling the story in villages and Zenanas. She who had so little 
opportunity of working for God in her brief life, bears powerful 
testimony now by her death to Muhammadan and Hindu. To go 
joyously, in the morning of her life, to death, as to a bridal, — this is a 
proof of the truth and power of Christianity, which who can gainsay ? 
I went on the day of Bini's departure to three Zenanas, which bigotry 
has closed. I asked no leave but went in, — I was pretty sure of a 
hearing, when I went to describe the death of Babu Singha's daughter. 

' What a contrast between Christianity and Muhammadanism, 
Hinduism, any other religion ! As Bini lay near her pure white 
coffin, with flowery Crosses above her, a party of the rather upper, 
educated men of Batala came to pay customary respect to the 
bereaved father. They were taken right up to where the white-clad 
form lay peacefully on a charpai. ... At Bini's funeral the contrast 
was most striking ; for as the white flowery coffin was carried to its 
resting-place, we all singing hymns of praise, the Hindus were — 
about fifty yards to the left of us — burning a corpse. To the right, 
flowers and music ; to the left, fire. The miserable wail of the 
heathen over their dead was not then heard ; only our hymns, and 
then beautiful words uttered over a peaceful grave.' 



CHAPTER XVIII 

A.D. 1 890-1 89 1 

IN OLD AGE 

Letters at this late period of Miss Tucker's life become 
so abundant, from numerous quarters, that the main 
difficulty is in selection, the main cause of regret is that 
so few can be used. The history of 1891 and 1892 may 
be told chiefly by Miss Tucker's details of what went on. 
Miss Dixie remained her constant companion in the little 
Mission bungalow all these years, — except when absent 
for her summer holiday, or on furlough. Others came 
and went, remaining a longer or a shorter time in Batala. 
Dr. Weitbrecht had settled down as C.M.S. Missionary in 
the place ; and Mr. Bateman, stationed at Narowal, came 
and went on itinerating expeditions. 

Charlotte Tucker still lived her life of rigid simplicity ; 
though perhaps certain indulgences, immaterial when she 
was younger and in more vigorous health, had now 
become a positive necessity. Long Indian toil, as well as 
sharp illnesses, had told upon her ; and at seventy she had 
every appearance of being ninety. Yet, through weakness, 
weariness, and languor, she struggled on, and kept up her 
steady round of work. 

The little ' Sunset ' house, in which she lived, consisted 
mainly of the following : bath-room, size 8 feet by 8 ; 
dressing-room, size 1 3 feet by 8 ; the one large principal 
room, size 24 feet by 13, divided by a screen into bedroom 

461 



462 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

and sitting-room ; and the verandahs. Miss Tucker's 
chief room has been described to me by one who spent 
months at Batala, as, at this date, — ' Rather bare and 
shabby, and used to have rather an untidy look. . . . As 
you went in from the verandah in front, the fireplace was 
on your left, and a sofa, with a screen behind it, screening 
off the bed, on your right. In front of you was the little 
table, where she used to write. I cannot remember all of 
the furniture ; there was not very much, — I think some 
shelves on each side of the fireplace.' 

This does not sound too luxurious. No doubt Miss 
Tucker might, without expense, have made her rooms much 
prettier, but for her passion for giving away. She seldom 
kept for herself more than was imperatively needed. 
While on this subject, it may be worth remarking, as 
regards the food of the Missionary ladies in Batala, that the 
cost of it has been found to amount, on an average, to about 
eight annas a day, — an anna being worth rather less than 
a penny. The said estimate applies to an ordinary time, 
including a certain amount of entertaining of visitors. Pro- 
bably the cost would be much the same in other parts of 
the Panjab, unless it were slightly more in large Stations. 

A few scattered sentences from the Journal may 
precede the letters of 1891 : — 

^ April 30, 1889. — Villages. . . . Sikh bibi very nice. I said, "I 
am very weak. If you heard that I died, what would you say.?" 
Reply : " Gone to Jesus ! Gone to Heaven ! " After a while I 
asked, "Were I to hear of your death, what should I say.'*" A little 
delay ; then a bibi observed on the kh'pa, mercy, of Jesus, and 
thought that He might take them too/ 

^ Aug. 31. — "Faint, yet pursuing," must be my motto. The two 

boys from , who came to Anarkalli, as if resolved to embrace 

Christianity, but, being without root, left us again, seem to have done 
much harm. The Muhammadans more bitter than before. Twice 
this week I — an aged servant of Christ — have been turned away 
from the Zenanas, to which I went in gentleness and kindness. To- 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 463 

day I was rejected at a fourth. ... It is a strain upon the threefold 
cord of Faith, Hope, and Love, this deliberate choosing of darkness 
instead of light, Barabbas instead of Christ. We need the prayers 
of God's people, and to remember the promise, " In due season ye 
shall reap if ye faint not." ' 

' Sept. 4. — . . . Two places very nice. B. is determined to be a 
Christian, and teach his wife. Wants Urdu Gospel. . . . 

^ Sept. 5. — . . . Felt ill ; half-blind ; yet generally well-heard. . . . 

' Sept. 6. — . . . Ophthalmia, but managed to go to O. five places. . . . 

''Dec. 12, 1889. — D.G. Hindus cross. As I mounted dark stair, 
heard " Buha band." ^ However, I ventured up, smiling, and said, 
— "When you come to the Dispensary, the door is not shut." 
There were four women ; the two elder cross, not the younger. 
At first no seat was offered me; then some one said, "Buddhi,"^ 
on which a small mat was brought, and the old woman meekly 
sat down. I tried to make my visit pleasant, showed my Golden 
Tree, and sang. It was a kind of breaking of ice. I took 
care not to stay very long. When I had risen, the two younger 
salaamed. I turned, smiling, to one cross old lady, and coaxed her 
to return my salaam. After a little while she did so ; but I wanted to 
conquer the toughest also. The younger women listened, much 
amused, to my polite expostulations on her rudeness. At last the old 
hand went up to the brow, and I departed, contented. The ice was 
broken. One can go again.' 

Dec. 25, Christjmis., 1889. — Nice. D., B., and children, made 
catechumens.' 

''Dec. 27. — The best day, I think, that I have ever had in Zenanas. 
. . . N. B., A very nice visit. Two fine young men, and at least 
seven women of various ages, appeared pleased, interested, and 
without any bigotr)\ So much inclined towards Christianity did one 
man in particular seem, that I spoke of the advantage of a united 
family accepting the Truth, and expressed a hope that all would come 
out. "Sat!" 3 echoed the Hindu heartily, throwing up one of his 
hands, as though to give force to the word." 

^ June 29, 1890. — I have, three times in as many weeks, been able 
freely to show a Bible picture in Islami schools, and speak of Christ. 
To-day, as I walked in the streets, twice tradesmen in their little 
shops wished to see my picture. I stopped, and others gathered 
round, whilst I explained.' 

1 Meaning, ' Door closed against you. ' 2 Old woman. •" True. 



464 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

''Sept. 2, 1890. . . . K., she sad. Seems to regret death of her 
poor young S., whom she kept such a prisoner, and of whom I 
thought, " If any one in that quarter be a secret believer, it is she !" 
I could seldom get into the house. The sweet S. was quite a 
prisoner. I have even stood before the window, and sung in the 
open lane, hoping that S. would hear the sound of my voice, like 
imprisoned Richard. I hear that S. gave birth to a girl, " a very 
beautiful tiny child,' who only lived for a month, and the young 
mother soon followed. I have strong hopes that both are with the 
Lord Jesus.' 

''Feb. 9, 1 89 1. — . . . I have suffered greatly from chilliness this cold 
weather. Perhaps in no winter during my whole life more. Old 
age. Ague.' 

'•March 25, 1891. — Song. W. B. Buckle ; but my best hearer was 
R. L., very interesting schoolboy. He met me at my first Zenana, and 
followed me to all the others. He was so nice, — even singing bhajans 
— that I thought at first that he must have learned at the Plough. 
With interest, amid interruptions from women, listened to story of the 
three Jews in the furnace, and told it afterwards in another Zenana. 
He was a help to me, explaining the Buckle, etc., very nicely. When 
the subject was Christ's Ascension, the boy said that He had gone up 
to God Almighty. I intend to write out the song for the dear 
fellow. . . . His heart seemed so impressionable, and his face 
brightened at the thought of the Crown to be given to " those who 
believe in Jesus." " I want to be a Christian,'' he said in English. 
Lord, bless him. Give him the Crown.' 

''April 13, 1891. . . . R. E. took me into her arms; felt so slim 
encircled by them. I noticed a quantity of jewels on her arms. 
She popped her bare feet on my knee, — I was seated on the 
ground, — to show me the jewels on them. Her amount of clothing 
was by no means proportionate. Presently down went her fore- 
head on my lap. I silently hoped that there was not much oil on 
her hair.' 

''May 14. — Hindus very nice. My A. B., cheerful-looking C. D., 
another whom I do not know so well, E. F. These three all hope 
to meet me in Heaven. When I said to C. D., " But how can we 
go ? We are sinners ! " — her simple reply was, "Jesus Christ, Guide." 
I have hopes of these three.' 

''May 15. — F. G., nice intelligent man. I was surprised at a little 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 465 

boy, H. I., being able to read. Gave him hymn-book. Was much 
followed about by boys. . . .' 

''May 25, 189 1. . . . Felt the weight of years much. Work a 
struggle ! Lord, help me ! . . .' 

'■ Ju7ie 4. . . . L. very nice. When I said that she was patient, poor 
dying hand pointed upwards. Peace on face. Many listened. . . . 

'' Ju7ie 22. ... I am to start to-day for Dalhousie. Feel old and 
rather worn out. If I live to 1892 must not stay down^ so long. . . .' 

''Aug 14, 1891. ... I sat outside with Bibis, in front of 's 

house. The door half open, behind it pretty smiling young Bibi, 
who again and again silently made signs to me to come in. Did so, 
and sat beside her. She did not utter one word, but by her looks 
tried to show me that she received the Word, and believed. She 
only said " Salaam," when I left. I read to her of Christ being the 
Good Shepherd, His own words.' 

' Dec. 24. — J. ill ; sweet. Told me that, sitting up in bed, she saw 
beings come in, clothed in white shining raiment. Felt frightened. 
Asked why they did not speak. Afterwards fell asleep, and dreamed 
of being taken to a beautiful place. She is, we think, a true believer, 
confesses herself sinful, and looks to Christ for salvation. Asked 
her if she would like baptism. " Yes." " Would your husband allow 
it?" "No."' 

These are specimens of the longer entries. The majority 
are exceedingly brief, consisting for the most part of names, 
initials, and single words. Letters to Mrs. Hamilton in 
the early part of 1891 are unusually few: not that the 
usual number were not written, but few have been kept. 
In the spring of that year there was some discussion as to 
the name of ' The Plough School,' — her own favourite 
name for the School, which meant much to her. One 
cannot but regret that any stir should have been made 
about the matter, when she had been the ' mother ' of the 
school. The criticism having been put forward, however 
needlessly, she wrote to Mr. Baring : — 

' By-the-by, the name " Plough " is objected to, as sounding like a 
public-house. . . . How could we choose a name that would signify 

1 i.e. Down in the Plains. 
2G 



466 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

entire dependence on God ? . . . The Plough appears to be flourishing. 
Boys come to it even from what we call the large Government 
School. Numbers have arisen to about 113. To-day I had no fewer 
than seven rather superior boys from the Plough. They come for 
religious conversation and Bible pictures.' 

On the 17th of June 1891 she wrote to Mrs. Gardiner 
about the recent death of that remarkable man, Bishop 
French, — no longer holding the position of a Bishop, but 
working as a simple Missionary. 

' My dear Mrs. Gardiner, — Though June in the plains is not the 
most favourable month for letter-writing, especially to a Septua- 
genarian, I will not let your kind note remain longer unanswered, 

' Yes, indeed, our late loved Bishop French was a saint, one whose 
memory is sweet, whose example is lofty. You will have seen the 
article in the Pa7ijab Mission News. I think that it was written by 
Rowland Bateman, who, so like himself, feels not having rushed off in 
all the heat, to have been at the side of his venerated Friend, left alone 
in a land of strangers. But the dear Saint was not alone ! What a 
glorious ending to his beautiful course ! He reminds one, when 
dying in the grapple with Muhammadanism in the very home of its 
birth, of the Swiss hero, who broke the phalanx of the enemy by 
clasping the spears of the foremost in his arms, and so receiving them 
into his breast. 

" ' Make way for liberty,' he cried ; 
' Make way for liberty ! ' — and died." 

' Of course there will be a Memoir of Bishop French, — but where 
is the Boswell competent to write it ? Who could give all the 
delicate touches, needed for a perfect portrait of one with so many 
idiosyncrasies t 

' How well I remember the dear Bishop coming all the way from 
Lahore, — when there was no railway, — to visit me, when I was 
supposed to be dying.^ He sat by my bedside, gently talking. I do 
not remember that I said anything to him. I was looking up at his 
face, and thinking what a lovely medallion might be made of it in 
wax ! It was an earthly thought ; but when you recall the delicate 
features, pure complexion, and saintly look, of that countenance, you 
will hardly wonder at the sick woman's reflection. 

' My letters, or rather letter, from England came in when I was 

1 It is not clear which of her severe illnesses is here referred to. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 467 

engaged in writing, and you will not wonder at the blot on the last 
page. ... I feel now disinclined to write at all. My beloved sister, 
Mrs. Hamilton, has been seriously ill ; but, thank God, to-day's 
account of her is good. — Yours affectionately, C. M. TUCKER. 

TO MISS MINNIE DIXIE. 

' {From the Hills) July 4, 1891. 

' I am not timid about snakes ; but H. has seen four lately, and it 
is only common-sense to look under one's bed, as the heat compels 
open windows and doors. I have only fish-insects and tarantulas at 
present, but am promised plenty of scorpions, centipedes, and leeches, 
in the rains. You know I have not your talent for squashing reptiles ; 
and if I called out for help in the unpleasant business, I doubt 
whether any one would hear me. I rather think that this will be my 
last visit to the Hills, and that Amritsar will be my Sanatarium in 
future.' 

The two next letters to Miss Dixie are about the 
outbreak of smallpox in Batala. She was ' quite ready to 
nurse a smallpox patient, should the malady spread.' 
And again, — ' Why should I delay my return ? As a 
Missionary, I am liable any day to meet children with 
smallpox full out. I hope to be with you in about a 
fortnight ' 

TO MISS LANGLEY. 

' Batala, /2//y 29, 1891. 

' It is very kind of you to ask what kind of things would be most 
useful here. For sale^ pretty little articles of dress for English 
children, from one day old to five years, are most readily disposed of 
We are afraid of woollen articles, as they are so difficult to keep. 
White ants are a real puzzle at Batala. . . . Happily cotton or silk 
they attack much less. Gentlemen's neckties, of a fashionable shape, 
would be likely to sell well. Station-people in India think at least as 
much about fashion as Londoners do, A few pretty cosies and 
toilet or tea-table covers would be nice, and some elegant dolls. 
These would suit for sales. For presents in schools — cheap dolls, 
gay and rather gaudy ; bags, with cotton and tape ; kurtas, common 
gay print, that will wash. I dare say that Miss Cockle could supply 
a pattern. The kurtas need to be made of Oriental shape, or they 
would not be worn by the school-children.' 



468 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

An attack of ophthalmia in her eyes, which must have 
caused much suffering, is made Hght of in her letters ; and 
in the same passing manner she alludes to a fall, whereby 
her face was turned black and blue. The main point in 
connection with this accident seemed to her to be the 
kindness and sympathy shown by Batala people, when she 
went to visit them, and the fact that nobody smiled at her 
discoloured and swollen features. 

TO Miss LEILA HAMILTON. 

'■Sept 12, 1 89 1. 

' You will see a half-sheet ; it belonged to a whole one, but the 
first half, alas ! I have had to tear up ; for it gave such a bright 
account of one, who, 07tly to-day^ I have found out has been 
deceiving us for many months ! . . . Let us drop the painful subject. 

' I had a visit early this morning from a real se.vant of God, dear 
old K. S. ! One thinks of him rather as the learned and pious 
Pandit, than as the ordained Pastor ; he leads such a wandering life. 
His faithful heart was heavy to-day, from the inconsistencies of 
professed Native Christians. He thought them better out of the Fold 
than in it ; — so do I, for many are not sheep at all ! 

' I have not yet heard whether dear Mr. Bateman has recovered 
I have written to him to-day. My letter will not cheer him, but he 
must know facts. Blindness is no benefit. We want light and air. 
Do you know, dear, that we felt our church dreadfully close, — yes, 
for years and years. The cause was obvious to us ladies. The doors 
and lower windows were often opened ; the upper windows 7iever ! 
It was troublesome to get at such high ones ; so year after year the 
bad air, which came from breath, ascended, and had no vent. Last 
Sunday, after my earnest protest, the windows were opened, and we 
breathed pure air ! 

' We are very quiet now ; but in two or three weeks will begin the 
rush from the Hills ; the season for work beginning, and the season 
for visiting too. ... It is possible that in the beginning of October 
I may go for a week or so to Futteyghur with sweet Daisy Key, to 
teach the Christian peasants in that out-of-the-way spot. I think 
that the quietness, with one choice companion, would suit me better 
than the bustle of many arrivals at Batala. About the ist of 
November I am engaged to go for a short visit to dear Louis and 
Lettie at Rawal Pindi. . . . The journey is not a very fatiguing one, 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 469 

as I can go all the way by train. Rawal Pindi is a city at the foot of 
the Himalayas ; there is no mounting up.' 

' Sept. 16, 1891. — My own sweet Sister, I do confess with regret that 

I wrote too hastily about , as dear M. C. does not think him 

bad, and hopes that he may be useful in time. I was vexed and 
impatient at my Laura being so worried, year after year. . . . But I 
was wrong, dear, I frankly own it ! I wonder when I shall be given 
grace to be really loving, gentle, and patient ! 

' Poor dear Daisy and I have been sadly tried lately by the wicked- 
ness of those in our own compound. We both feel that it will be a 
relief to get away for a while to Futteyghur, which we shall probably 
do in the beginning of October. . . . But oh, let me not be so 
ungrateful to the Lord, or so unjust to dear excellent Native Christian 
friends, as to say in my haste, " All men are liars ! " Poor Daisy 
thinks Batala the most wicked place that she has ever been in ; and 
so do I ? But precious jewels come to Batala, though very few out of 
it. . . . 

' But I must not write only of trials, love. If you could have 
dropped in upon us yesterday evening, you would have thought us a 
very happy party. See Char, in one part of the room, playing at 
chess with our good Pastor, Nobin Chanda;^ . . . dear Babu Singha, 
the excellent and wise, a special comfort to me, looking on in his 
quiet benevolent way. At the other side see sweet Daisy, animated 
and bright, playing at our famous Batala game with a choice set of 
Natives ; . . . and last, not least, dear Rosie Singha, our honorary 
and very steady worker in the Dispensary. I feel giving these kinds 
of parties a real duty ; and they give, at little cost, so much innocent 
enjoyment. It is well for the Missionaries too to have pauses, in a 
struggle with so much that is repulsive and saddening. ... I think 
that Rowland is not now actually ill, as he writes about being in the 
midst of a sermon. I hope that he will be able to pay Batala a 
flying visit before long. . . . He has so many Missionary troubles^ 
and we cannot help adding to them. But — 

' " Soon and for ever, we '11 see as we 're seen, 

And learn the deep meaning of things that have been ! " ' 

''Sept. 27, 1891. — I will steal a bit from the morning to write a 
little to you. We are living rather in a bustle at present ; the tide of 
Missionaries running down from the Hills, rather sweeping over 
Batala. Dear Rowland is here. . . . Miss Boyd is here. She is to 

1 The Rev. Nobin Chanda Das, for years Native Pastor at Batala, and Head- 
master of the Mission ' Plough ' School. 



470 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

be married, please God, next week. . . . Her visit has been a real 
help to me, at a time of much Missionary difficulty. . . . Her Betrothed 
has been to Muscat, to gather information about the last days of dear 

Bishop French. . . . Miss returned here on Saturday ; Miss 

Dixie and the Corfields start for Batala to-day. One lady comes 
here from Amritsar to-day ; we are to start her from hence at 4 A.M. 
to-morrow, Tuesday. ... I shall be very glad to be quietly off, . . . 
out of a kind of whirlpool. We will have eight at dinner to-day ; 
quite as much as our table will hold.' 

'FUTTEYGHUR, Oct. II. — I watch with much interest the Christian 
father, R. M., when at our long Services his little four-years old 
Z. is beside him. It is lovely to see the peaceful confiding loving cling- 
ing trust of the little child, as she cuddles to her strong father, and 
his gentle tenderness to the wee girl. ... It makes me think of our 
Heavenly Father and us. His weak little ones. But an elder girl 
of R. M. was bitten by a snake ; and then the tender father 
showed "the hardness of love." He resolutely cut out the poisoned 
part with a penknife. The poor child screamed terribly, but still the 
parent cut on. I dare say that his own heart felt gashed. The child 
was saved. O when our Heavenly Father thus wounds to save, 
may we have grace to lie still ! ' 

One would much like to know the rest ot this story, 
and how the poor father managed to keep his little girl 
from bleeding to death. His courage must indeed have 
been great. 

Later in the same letter, when again on the never-fail- 
ing topic of troubles and disappointments in the work, 
Miss Tucker says, — ' O what need we Missionaries have of 
wisdom ! We are so liable to make mistakes.' 

TO . 

'Oct. 24, 1 89 1. 

' I was in Sikh villages this morning. The Sikhs are more 
friendly than the Muhammadans. I have often told them that if 
their respectable Guru Nanak w^ere here on Earth now, he would pro- 
bably become a Christian. I said that I had heard that there was 
something about our Lord in the Granth. The Sikh with whom I 
was conversing at once gave me the " Slok," and translated its diffi- 
cult antique Panjabi. This is the Slok in English ; " That Cutter of 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 471 

demons' heads, the world's revered Jesus !" The Sikh said that 
" Isa" (Jesus) was thought by them to be " Ishur, — God Almighty." 
I replied that we too called Jesus, God !' 



TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

' Oct. 30. — Many many thanks, mine own sweet Sister, for yours of 
the 8th, and all your loving thought for Char.'s comfort. You would 
keep the bird in a golden cage, lined with soft fur ! But Char, is a 
bit of a wild bird, and likes to fly about freely. The fur will be 
delicious on cold mornings and evenings ; but to wear it all day, even 
in December, would feel exhaustingly warm. One needs to adapt 
oneself perpetually to the changes of temperature in December and 
January ; this needs a Httle Indian experience and common-sense. 
The want of these two things is one cause of Indian break-downs. 
Inexperienced Missionaries think it safe to do in India what they 
have done in old England ! If you consider, love, that I have kept 
my health, with some few interruptions, for almost sixteen years in 
India, you may allow that I am a fair manager of it. I am thought 
rather a wonder. 

' As for having " a really nice capable maid to wait upon " me ; — 

dear ! — dear — DEAR ! ! I might fill a whole line with such exclama- 
tions, to express my almost horror at such a proposal ! Europeans, 
except good working Missionaries, who can help^ are dreadful 
anxieties and troubles. An Englishwoman in service is always a 
possible invalid, and a probable grumbler. I never in my life could 
stand a person running after me and watching me. I have an ayah 
to attend to my room, — and could have plenty of darzies to mend my 
clothes, but I prefer doing a little stitching myself. I am not always 
tumbling down like a ninepin, — but I would /r^r tumbling once or 
twice a month to having any one always watching me. Dear Minnie 
insists on handing me to my room at night. You must remember 
that I am the adopted Aunt of a Doctor Miss Sahiba. 

' This is rather a frisky note, darling. When I am a real invalid, 

1 am said to be a good one ; but I am strongly averse to becoming 
one when I am in fair health. ... I know how dear Laura and 
Leila would constantly be putting soft fetters of love round me ; but 
they would find me an obstreperous bird. I should break the fetters 
by sudden astonishing efforts, — as I fled from the Doctor lady who 
came from Amritsar. I knew that the Weitbrechts wanted her to 
see me. After breakfast she went with Dr. W. into his study, to look 



472 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

at something. I saw my opportunity, hurried down the long stair, 
and into my duli ;— 

' " They 're gone ! she 's gone, — over, etc." 

I knew that I was safe, as Batala has twelve entrances ; and no one 
could tell which I had taken. It was rare fun, and seemed to do me 
more good than physic could have done. So take no anxious thought 
about me, love.' 

The being ' handed to her room at night ' was found to 
be a necessity in her old age. After spending the evening 
in Sonnenschein with the younger ladies, — generally either 
reading aloud, or playing games, — she had to go out into 
the front verandah, and to pass along it till she reached 
the door of her own little ' Sunset ' dwelling. If alone, 
she was apt to stumble, or to run against something, and 
the regular plan was adopted of either Miss Dixie or one 
other of her nieces always accompanying the older lady, on 
this small nightly pilgrimage. 

TO MISS LAURA VERONICA TUCKER. 

'Nov. i8, 1891. 

' Oh, dearest Laura Veronica, what a warm capital web you have 
spread for her whom you call Fairy Frisket. Certainly I look very 
unlike di fairy ; and a very comfy rug is far more suitable for me than 
gossamer wings or glittering wand ! A bibi expressed surprise to- 
day that a weak old woman could sing ; but I told her that I sing 
every day in my life. If I stopped for a week, perhaps my throat 
might find out my age ! I must not give it a chance of so doing. The 

same with my feet ; the dear kind E s were always offering me 

a drive, and I often took one with L. ; but — oh, my friends. Misses 
Feet, you had to do your work too. No laziness tolerated ; or you 
might presume to fancy yourselves antiquated. Now I am back in 
harness again, have been to the city to-day, and intend to visit a 
village-school to-morrow, unless Daisy Key go instead. She is far 
better at teaching than I am. But I am afraid that I have not yet 
thanked my sweet niece for the capital rug. I do so now with a kind 
kiss. . . . 

' Yesterday, in the railway carriage, I offered a wee book by 
Spurgeon to a tall big man, connected with the railway department. 
He asked me immediately if I were related to , and gave his 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 473 

opinion that was a real good man. My frank companion 

expressed, however, a general dislike to Missionaries. " Why do you 
not like us ?" I asked mildly. He had evidently not been fortunate 
in some that he had known, — their names were not familiar to me. 
He disliked their preferring working on Natives instead of their own 
countrymen, and evidently thought them too comfortable ! But what 
ca7i I do, when my dear relatives send such charming gifts to your 
attached old Auntie Char ? ' 

TO MR. AND MRS. ST. GEORGE TUCKER. 

^ Dec. 12, 1 891. 

'Your very handsome and very kind — only too handsome — gift 
reached me safely this morning ; just the right time for the arrival, as 
the air in the morning is very keen, and then fur is a real comfort. 
Much has your fine jacket been admired, — so " beautiful," so " grand." 
But it does not look unsuitable even for Missionary use. Very many 
affectionate thanks for this token of your affection. It quite strikes 
as well as gratifies me, to see how little difference sixteen years of 
absence seems to make as regards the loving-kindness of my dear 
relatives. They do not seem to forget the aged Missionary, or weary 
of showing her tokens of love.' 

'We are to have an interesting Ordination Service next Sunday. 
F. M. and I. U., Converts from Muhammadanism, tried and true, 
are to be appointed Deacons. We expect the Bishop on Thursday. 
He will, we hope, lay the first stone of our Mission School Building, 
so called,^ on Saturday. ... I have begged that the building may be 
very plain, — dear Mr. Baring gave the money for it. . . . It is a 
great matter for some religious instruction to be given to more than 
130 boys from Heathen and Muhammadan homes.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''Dec. 21. 
' We have been having a busy time. . . . On Sunday there was 
the interesting Ordination, To-day the dear Bishop kindly laid the 
first stone of Mr, Baring's generous gift to Batala, a building for the 
City School, A number of Muhammadans and Hindus were pre- 
sent ; but the service was most distinctly Christian. The Gloria 
Patri was repeated again and again ; the precious Name of Christ 
was not only on the stone, but in the prayers and portion of the Bible 
read. ... At the gathering I saw many interesting persons, both 

1 Formerly ' The Plough. ' 



474 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

English and Native. . . . The Bishop is such a lovable man ; gentle, 
bright, affectionate ; showing not a particle of pride. We do not 
call him " My lord," but " Bishop." ' 

' {Undated^ — Beloved Sister, this is the last Sunday of 1891 ; may 
1892 be rich in blessings to you and your loved ones of two genera- 
tions. " He leadeth me, — oh, blessed thought 1 " 

' It is good for me to be a while in this quiet place.^ Batala at 
Christmas time is too bustling. Merry festivities are more delight- 
ful to the young than the old, I expected dear Herbert and Mr. 
Channing to dine with us ; and to my surprise we sat down twelve. 
It was all right ; we should use hospitality without grudging, 
especially at Christmas time ; but you know that Char, has a sorrow 
at her heart. I retired from the merry games, to prepare for the 
next day's long journey. O my Laura, ask for me a gentle sympa- 
thising spirit, — 

' ' ' To meet the glad with cheerful smiles, 
And to wipe the weeping eyes." ' 

Was the ' sorrow ' here spoken of, the delicate health of 
' her Laura ? ' If the sister in India was ageing fast, the 
sister in England was faiHng fast. Parted as they had 
been during sixteen long years, the loving sympathy 
between them was as fresh and ardent as ever. A dread 
had long oppressed Mrs. Hamilton that ' her Char.' would 
soon be called away. But though the summons to the 
elder sister was indeed not far distant, that to the younger 
sister was to arrive first. 

^ Narowal, the Station of the Rev. R. Bateman. 



CHAPTER XIX 

A.D. 1892 
LIGHT AT EVENTIDE 

The Evening of Miss Tucker's life was passing fast away. 

Sixteen years of her long Indian campaign were over. 

Only two }-ears remained. But the end of her Evening 

was to be Day, not Night. For nearly forty years she had 

looked forward with joy to the great change ; for more 

than twenty she had longed with an impassioned craving 

for a sight, Face to face, of that dear Lord and Master 

whom she loved. And though she did not know it, the 

time was drawing very near. Could she have known it, the 

passing troubles of these months would have seemed easy 

to bear, in the light of coming glory. Barely two more 

years of toil and weariness, — and then — the Home-going ! 

One more heavy sorrow had to come first ; one more 

sharp blow upon the golden staff of her Will. Many a 

blow had fallen since she wrote her little book, The Giant- 

Killer ; many dear ones had been called away by death. 

And now the summons was going forth for the dearest of 

all ; the sister- friend, who from very infancy had been one 

with herself Xo shadow had ever fallen on their love one 

for another. Before the close of 1892 the shadow of death 

was to fall across it, leaving Charlotte Tucker more lonely 

in heart than she had ever been before. But the shadow 

was to fall for a very little while. Only a few months of 

separation ; and then the sisters would be together again. 

475 



476 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

' " Stay thy hand ! " ' Fides exclaimed, in the story by A. L. O. E., 
as blow after blow fell on the golden staff. ' " It can bear no more ! " 

'"Yet a little patience," cried Experience, and struck it again. 
Then the Will was restored to Fides, — straight, pure, beautiful, — oh, 
how unlike that staff which had been so deadly in the grasp of Pride ! 

' As Fides stood gazing on the fair gift before him, once more, and 
for the last time, the shining robe and star-wreath of Conscience 
flashed on his sight. Never before had her smile been so glad, so 
beaming with the radiance of Heaven. 

""The work is done, — the fight is over !" she exclaimed. "Thou 
art summoned to the Presence of thy King ! A messenger is even 
now waiting to conduct thee to the Home which thou so long hast 
desired ! Go, bearing with thee the offering of a conquered Will, the 
acknowledgment that not even that should be thine own, and the 
remembrance of foes bravely met and overcome, through the might 
of Him Who armed thee for the fight. . . . Go where all is gladness 
and rejoicing and peace, — where war and danger shall be known no 
more ! " ' ^ 

The work was nearly done ; the fight was nearly over. 
But Charlotte Tucker could not yet see the starry form, 
could not yet hear the gentle accents, which soon would 
bid her to ' rise and come away.' Before many days of 
1892 had passed, she was back again in Batala ; deep in 
her usual round of work and interests. 

' Batala, y^;?. 10. — Here am I at home again. I did so enjoy and 
benefit by my visit to Narowal. It was not leaving work but leaving 
cares. I worked every day, but the work was more encouraging, and 
the feeling of repose so refreshing. If I live to see another Christ- 
mas, I think that I shall run away to some quiet spot, like Narowal, 
where the railway whistle is never heard, . . . 

' When I was at peaceful Narowal, I happened to read in a printed 
paper a kind of fable, which has been such a comfort to myself, that 
I have put the idea into verse, and my Laura shall have a copy. . . . 
As we Missionaries have a great many more little annoyances than 
great afflictions, I am inclined — for myself — to change the last line 
but one into 

' " Change petty worries to plumage on wings." 

' You know there are on a bird's pinion, not only the long feathers, 

1 The Giani-Kilkr, by A, L, O. E, 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 477 

but the little tiny ones ; but how that fluffy downy sort add to beauty 
and comfort ! . . . 

"WEIGHTS AND WINGS. 

' " Sweet is a parable which I have read ; 

Birds at the first could not soar into air, 
Bound to the earth ; till their Maker, 'tis said, 

Gave to each two little burdens to bear. 
Proud ones rehised the least burden to lift ; 

Others, submissive, obediently cried, — 
' All that He sends we will take as a gift ; 
Feeble are we, yet will strength be supplied.' 

" Raising her burdens, each bird with surprise 

Finds to her weak frame most closely it clings ; 
Soft, light and beautiful, radiant with dyes, 

Lo ! every weight has expanded to wings ! 
Woe to the creatures that clung to the groimd ! 

They could not flutter bright wings in the sky ; 
Ne'er could they rise above Earth's narrow bound, — 

Whilst their companions were soaring on high. 

' ' Take we up burdens of sorrow or care. 

Looking to Him Who the trial has given, 
Grace will give courage and patience to bear, 

Make burdens wings to uplift us to Heaven. 
WTien disappointment its heavy cross brings. 

Lord, in each trial Thy love let us see ; 
Change e'en our heaviest woes into wings. 

Onward and upward to bear us to Thee ! ' " 

^ Feb. 12, 1892. 

' Mine own precious Sister, — Again have you been called to the 
trial of sickness and suffering. . . . These trials may seem strange 
and unaccountable to the children of earth, but how differently they 
are regarded by the children of light ! They make us keep closer to 
the Fathei-'s side, — cling more to His supporting Hand, — the weights 
do turn into wings ! O how often have I during late days thought 
of that little parable I And when we reach the Blessed Shore, and 
"know as we are known," we shall fully realise why it is good that we 
should be afflicted. . . . 

' I was reading the Commandments aloud in a village yesterday, 
when a bright young Hindu Pandit — rather well read — objected to 
the Second. The poor fellow was probably conscious that he him- 
self was constantly breaking the Second Commandment. It interested 



478 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

me to hear a middle-aged sensible-looking Sikh take the other side, 
quietly, and with perfect good-temper. Each of the men afterwards 
accepted a Gospel, one in Gurmukhi, one in Urdu.' 

''Feb. i8. — I am thankful for improved accounts of you. . . . We 
have had rather an eventful week for Batala. . . . On Monday the 
dear Bishop came in. Herbert asked me to take luncheon with him 
on Tuesday. It was very nice ; just the Bishop, Herbert, and four 
nice Native Christians. I was the only lady. ... At half-past three 
we had a very interesting Confirmation Service in the Church, to 
which the Bishop drove me. He gave a very nice address, which 
Herbert translated beautifully into Panjabi, for the benefit of the 
simple peasants. On the following morning the Bishop gave in 
English such a practical heart-searching dLddxQss to us workers ! He 
looked so earnestly at us ladies, and was evidently anxious to do us 
real good. His was no idle display of eloquence ; rather did his 
address resemble the admonition of a kind wise father. We did not 
see him after we left the chapel. . . . 

' We have had a singularly mild and bright cold weather, . . . How 
curious it would be to an English farmer to see fields green with 
corn in February, — the Spring crop, — and, at the same time, other 
bits of ground being ploughed up for the sowing of another crop ! 
There seems something always growing. There are lovely roses and 
fruit blossoms, but the weather is now comparatively dark and dull.' 

^ April 8, 1892. — The Muhammadans in Batala seem to be in a 
much better humour than they may be expected to be during the 
Ramazan — their grand fast. I have visited a good many Muham- 
madan Zenanas this week ; and in not one, so far as I remember, have 
I heard a word about the fast, which was apt to make them so bigoted 
and self-righteous. No one objects when I repeat in Urdu the 
precious text, " By grace ye are saved, through faith," etc. Indeed, 
I believe that a good many Batala folk think that after all our 

religion is better than their own. I repeat " God so loved " 

more often, I think, than any other text ; and I have not lately 
heard the shocked exclamation, "Tauba! tauba !"^ Perhaps it will 
be different to-morrow, when I propose visiting two villages, which 
were so bigoted and disagreeable, that I at one time struck both 
out of my visiting-list. Minnie induced me to give them — at least 
one of them — another trial, as she had given medical aid to the wife 
of the Maulvi (Muhammadan religious teacher of the place), and 
had found him very polite. No doubt the Dispensary opens doors. 

1 Deprecating ; meaning something sad, something to be repented of. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 479 

I found the Maulvi bigoted but civil, and . . . willing to receive a 
New Testament. ... I enjoy the quiet walk, and then ride in my 
dull, in the cool fresh morning, when I visit villages. The harvest 
has commenced. Here I see fields of ripening corn, there the 
scattered sheaves. But the harvest is not so plentiful as it was last 
year. We had too dry a cold weather ; not nearly so chilly as the 
former one. I am taking out illuminated texts just now. I have 
beautiful ones, both in Persian, Urdu, and Gurmukhi. It is interesting 
to see peasants, somewhat more intelligent than their fellows, spelling 
out the precious verses from Scripture.' 

^ April 12.— Precious darling Laura, — The Mail has to-day 
brought me in your letter of March 24th ; the first clear intimation of 
the nature of your illness. I will not say that my eyes are dry. I own 
that the selfish thought arose, — " Would that / had had it instead ! " 
And yet I prefer knowing the plain truth. I have comfort in the 
thought, " I am old ; whichever of us is taken firsts the meeting — O 
what a joyful meeting ! — may not be far off! "... 

' I am thankful that you do not suffer greatly. I fondly hope that 
this trial may be spared. I do not feel inclined to add more. I need 
not, — you know so much of your own loving Char.' 

TO MISS 'LEILA' HAMILTON. 

^ April 13, 1892. 

'Though I wrote to your beloved Mother yesterday, and shall only 
be just in time to catch the post, my heart impels me to send a letter 
to you, my dear afflicted God-daughter. I know that you try bravely 
to bear up under your sore trial, so as not to add to that of your 
precious invalid. ... I am glad that I have been told the worst. It 
has been good for my soul ! Only the day before the mail came in, 
I had been foolishly, sinfully, brooding over trifles, till I even showed 
outward irritation, instead of reflecting that small annoyances as well 
as great troubles are God's loving discipline for us. Alas ! that I should 
have shown temper ! The next day the Lord sent a quiet^ holy sorrow, 
and it did me good, — tears were wholesome, — I felt that I had been 
petty and irritable, and deserved a different kind of trial. I have been 
more under discipline since I attained the age of seventy than I have 
perhaps ever been before in India. But should trifies disturb the 
serenity of a Servant of a Crucified Saviour ? . . . Thinking of your 
real grief, I hope to be more patient with petty annoyances. . . . 

'Write freely to me, dear Leila. To help you in your trouble will 
not do me harm but good.' 



48o THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

^ April 17, 1892. — Beloved Laura, "The Lord is Risen indeed!" 
This is the Easter greeting, and this is Easter morn. I shall soon 
start for church ; but first I would remind my darling sister and my- 
self of words like the clarion of a silver trumpet, followed by the 
sound of an angel's harp : — 

' ' ' The Lord hath triumphed gloriously ; 
The Lord shall reign victoriously ! 
Seals assuring, 
Guards securing, 

Watch His earthly prison ! 
Seals are shattered, 
Guards are scattered, — 
Christ hath Risen ! " 

' " No longer then let mourners weep. 

Or call departed Christians ' dead ! ' 
For death is hallowed into sleep. 
Each grave becomes a bed. 

' " It is 7iot exile — peace on high ; 

It is not sorrow, — rest from strife ; 
To fall asleep is ?iot to die ; 
To be with Christ is better life ! " 

' How beautiful are these lines, — how true I . . . 

' Oh, what Heavenly wisdom Missionaries need ! ... It seems to me 
that dear people at home have a very imperfect idea of Missionaries, 
and, in their prayers, probably ask for comfort in trial for God's 
servants, rather than for the wisdom which is from Above, — the 
gentle influence of the Holy Spirit. Ask this for me, my Laura. I 
do get impatient sometimes, and I make mistakes.' 

'■May 2, 1892. — Books are a great enjoyment when I am alone, or 
sitting, as I am at present, by the bedside of one who has been ill, 
though now, thank God, recovering. We have had such a sick house, 
your Char keeping well, when it seemed as if nobody else would ; 

delicate Miss coming next on the roll of health. She has been 

able to take the housekeeping, and to help in the nursing, so we are 
getting on, and hope that all will come right soon. Miss Dixie took 
four children to Clarkabad, and returned April 23rd, quite ill. . . . 
Miss Wright is nursing her. Then . . . Daisy and Miss Copes came 
almost suddenly in from Futteyghur ; Daisy's fever had alarmed Miss 
Copes. . . . Miss Copes had her turn next, and has suffered severely. 
. . . Char has felt some comfort from beinsr of some use here.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 481 

FROM THE REV, R. CLARK. 

'Cheshire, May 3, 1892. 
' My dear Mrs. Hamilton,—. . . I saw dear Miss Tucker shortly 
before I left Amritsar. She is, as you know, not strong ; 2 Cor. iii. 
13, R.V., always occurs to me when I see her. God is daily using her 
to be a blessing to us all.' 

C. M. T. TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''May 8 {Seventy- first Birthday). 

' I am sure that my precious Laura has been thinking of me to-day, 
as I have been thinking of her. . . . 

' I think that it was some time before 5 a.m. that Mr. Corfield and 
his boys came to greet me with a hymn. I was in my dressing-gown, 
but hastily popped on my bonnet and went out to shake hands with 
everybody. As it is well known that I do not wish gifts, and prefer 
simple trifles that are useful, my presents were judiciously chosen, 
and are, to my mind, curiously symbolical. 

' The Corfields gave me a box of soap, — fragrant, and typical 
of cleansing. Miss Wright, a pretty little box of vaseline. This 
pleased me particularly. I have said, and I think written, that every 
Missionary should have a box of ointment, symbol of peace-keeping 
and peace-making ! Now / have one myself. Minnie gave pens. 
May I make a good use of them ! . . . Dear Babu Singha has given 
me a hand-pankah (fan), which I waved gratefully in church this 
morning. This is an emblem of refreshment in oppressive heat. . . . 

' Dear Mr. Baring's admirable building for the Mission Plough is 
to be opened to-morrow by the Deputy Commissioner ; and I 
suppose that Muhammadan and Hindu big or little wigs will be 
present. I am glad that my birthday falls on Sunday ; so that the 
tamasha is postponed till the next day. There is something solemn 
about the Anniversary, when one has travelled so far on the Home- 
ward road. You will feel this, darling, on the 20th.i . . . Dear 
Herbert's sermon to-day was on " Seekest thou great things for 
thyself? Seek them not !" We should never have known Baruch's 
failing but for that warning word. I have been very much tamed 
down, dearest.' 

TO THE REV. F. H. BARING. 

'■May 9, 1892. 
' I must tell you of the grand opening of your beautiful School 

1 The sentence as to her tenth birthday, quoted page 13, comes in here. 
2 H 



482 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

building to-day, while the scene is fresh in my mind, and before the 
coming in of the home mail. . . . The thermometer has been nearly 
92° in my room this morning. 

' The fine building was well filled ; the part nearest the table with 
Europeans and Baring boys ; the Plough boys, very numerous, had 
the larger space ; and in front, on chairs, in stiff dignity, sat the city 
magnates. . , . We sang a hymn ; Mr. Wright . . . read a Psalm ; 
and, we Christians standing, Herbert led the prayer. Then my 
Nephew^ made a short speech, followed by a nice one from dear 
Babu Singha, and a kind of brief, satisfactory report from Nobin 
Chanda. 

' And then up rose the Deputy Commissioner, and, to my great 
surprise and great amusement, gave, in rough Urdu, such a whipping 
to Batala and her magnates, as I never heard in a speech in my life. 
First, — Batala, poor Batala, was not like any other city ; it was so 

quarrelsome I Clearly, the Deputy Commissioner (like Mr. , 

who told me nearly sixteen years ago that Batala was the most 
troublesome and litigious city in the district) has no fancy for the 
place. Then the whip came down on the shoulders of the poor rais ; ^ 
and it was mercilessly plied. The magnates had to bear the 
indignation of the Englishman for doing their best— or worst — to 
prevent our getting ground for the school or the proposed Mission 
Hospital. For whose benefit was the latter? asked the irate Deputy 
Commissioner. Not for our own, but that of the women and children 
of Batala ! In short, the Englishman whipped the poor magnates, 
till he made them bleed — in their purses. He told them that money 
was wanted for school-benches, etc., and let them know that their 
aid would be desirable. Paper was on the table. . . . Some put 
down rupees; some wrote down promises. About 701 were thus 
collected. . . . The whole thing was so funny that I could not help 
being greatly amused. I wonder what the scolded Muhammadans 
said, when they went back to their Zenanas. . . . 

' Herbert said in his speech that your fine building will also be 
used as Library, Reading-room, and Lecture-room. I think there 
will be a Sunday-school also.' 

TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

''May 15, 1892. — My precious Laura, you wish me to ask for you 
more faith and love. I ask more, even for floods of joy. Why not, 
darling? "Ask, and ye shall receive!" . . . My trial, as regards 

Mr. Bateman. 2 Chiefs. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 483 

this matter, is different from yours. I have to learn patience to 
restrain yearning to depart and be with Christ, I have twice, as it 
were, in dangerous illness, — what men call " dangerous," — caught a 
glimpse of the River ; and it seems glittering with sunbeams ! I 
long to cross it ; but I feel that it would be wrong to pray to go. 
The Master only knows when we are ready to go Home ; but how 
my spirits rise, if I see any likelihood of the time being near ! I do 
7tot feel this at present, for I have such a good constitution. Three 
out of four of my Mission ladies here have been seriously ill ; with 
the fourth I can see that it is a weary struggle to get on ; and I, an 
aged woman, am not ill at all ! I do not suppose that any of the four 
really wish to quit the field — or the school. The one who does may 
be kept long at her post. None can tell ! I fall back on " The 
Lord knows best."' 

' May 20. — This is my own beloved Laura's Birthday, — a day 
which Char is not likely to forget. Sweet peace and joy be yours, 
darling. You have added to the happiness of many. You have, as 
it were, washed the disciples' feet, and you are sitting at the Lord's 
Feet. That is what dear, saintly Fanny described as "the position 
of a Christian." Is it not a wondrous thought that you and I may be 
welcomed by such as Fanny ? She was not beautiful on earth ; but 
how fair she will be, raised "in His likeness " ! The Saviour will be 
" admired in His saints," — a very remarkable expression, and a sweet 
subject for thought. There is so much in us now not to be admired ; 
but when He comes to make up His jewels, all will be bright and 
fair. . . . 

'This has been a particularly hot season. . . . You would think 91° 

warm in a bedroom at night. Miss and Daisy sleep out on 

the roof : but I think myself too old for the chance of a midnight 
scramble in my night-clothes, carrying my bedding down an outside 
stair, should a dust-storm or thunder-storm come on. I keep on the 
prudent side, which is zVzside. ... A Sunday-school has been opened 
in Mr. Baring's beautiful new School-house. Attendance is of course 
voluntary ; and Mr. and Miss Wright, who have started the Sunday- 
school, and who only expected to find about twenty boys, were 
pleased to find about sixty pupils ; not only the " Plough " boys, but 
their teachers. Was not this grand ? . . . I hope that dear Francis' 
new building will be one of the best means of bringing hard-hearted 
Batala to the knowledge of the Saviour. The laddies are often not 
hard at all, but pleased and eager to hear about the Christian Faith 
The next generation may be very different from the present one.' 



484 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

'■May 29. — Do not regret having told me about your state of 
health. I like to'^know the truth, and at my advanced age may well 
face it. Whether my darling Laura or myself be taken firsts the 
remaining one will have comfort. It is but a "little while" — 

' ' ' Till He come ! O let the words 
Linger on the trembling chords, 
Let the little space between 
In their golden light be seen ! " ' 

Early in June Miss Tucker took the long journey to 
Simla, accompanied part of the way by Dr. Weitbrecht, 
and afterwards by Dr. Lankester. Through the thought- 
ful kindness of various friends, the journey was made as 
little fatiguing to her as possible. On her arrival she was 
so worn out as to sleep thirteen hours, with only one 
break, but was afterwards none the worse. Writing of the 
kind Cousins with whom she had gone to stay, she says ; 
' The boys are charming, so clever, bright, and loving. 
They make of me as much as if I were a pet Grand- 
mother. I bought a little toy for them ; and they were 
so much delighted with it, that I must have had between 
the three boys nearly a dozen kisses for it. I wonder that 
they are so fond of kissing a wrinkled old face.' 

On June 17 she wrote from Simla : — 

' I am treated here with great kindness and consideration. I am 
not pressed to exert myself; but of course I take my part when 
friends come to dinner. To-day we are to have four Calcutta 
Missionary ladies for dinner and games. To-morrow an old friend 
of mine, Carry H., and her husband, and Lord Radstock. One 
of the most lovable guests that we have had is our own Bishop of 
Lahore. I am to go to his lecture on Isaiah this evening. . . . 

'There is an excellent piano here, and dear Mackworth Young 
plays exquisitely. . . . How you would have enjoyed Beethoven's 
Hallelujah Chorus, which he has played to me twice from memory ! 
" Worlds unborn shall sing His glory — the exalted Son of God ! " 
Do not those words recall the dear old Ancient Concerts ? Yester- 
day I was tempted, when alone, to open the piano myself; 
and what do you think was one of the things which I sang 
and played ? My Laura's " The Lord He is my Strength and 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 485 

Stay ! " That too reminds of old times. O what will Heaven's 
music be ! ' 

The following letter, written from Simla to Miss Raikes, 
was on the subject of a translation into Bengali of her 
little book, The Story of Dr. Duff: — 

'■June 20, 1892. — If I have neglected thanking you for a copy of 
your translation, pray forgive an aged and half worn-out ^Missionary ; 
— I am seventy-one, and in weak health. In our Panjab I have no 
intercourse with Bengalis, except such as know English more or less ; 
and I am not acquainted with a word of the Bengali language, Urdu 
and Panjabi being what is spoken, so that I could not myself judge 
of your translation. At Simla, however, where I am on a visit, I hear 
that there are BengaHs, and I might find some to whom I could 
present the book, which has been your labour of love. I cannot but 
hope that you have not published 2000 copies at your own expense. 
I never do ; but a Society prints, and takes the risk. If the Bengalis 
be like the Panjabis, it will be difficult to sell so many copies at 
8 annas each. If I remember rightly, my little Life of Duff ovAy 
costs 2 annas ; and our people think that a good deal ! But Bengal 
may be more liberal.' 

The next letter — like one or two on the same topic, 
already quoted — is of peculiar interest, because, some 
three years earlier. Miss Tucker had been a good deal 
exercised in spirit about the fact of Bishop French's 
successor being a decided High Churchman, and had 
more than once written in strong and melancholy terms 
to her sister on the subject. The tone in which she now 
wrote, in 1892, is remarkable, as being by no means in 
accord with her former prejudices. But Charlotte Tucker, 
as I have had occasion to remark before, was not one of 
those small-natured people, who always stick fast to what 
they have said, because they have said it. She was ever 
ready for fresh light upon any matter. It appears to me 
that we see here in her some measure of that widening 
of spiritual outlook, which ought to become visible with 
advancing years and with a closer knowledge of the Spirit 



486 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

of Christ Probably she was not herself definitely conscious 
of any difference. 

^ SiMLPs^, Jtily 3, 1892. — My beloved Laura, I have just come from 
church, from partaking of Holy Communion. Our Bishop preached. 
It was a sermon whose gist I do not think that I shall ever forget ; 
for it presented a most familiar text in — to me — quite a new and very 
striking light : " Blessed are the poor in spirit." The Bishop said 
that many persons — I was amongst them — "took the Blessing as 
meant for the humble^''; but he, referring to the parallel passage in St. 
Luke's Gospel, showed that this is a limitation of the meaning. The 
poor in spirit are those who count themselves as actually possessors 
of nothing; the goods which are called theirs are merely le?tt of God, 
to be taken up or laid down simply at His pleasure. In the face of 
a large congregation, in gay, fashionable, money-seeking Simla, our 
Bishop with fervent energy preached a sermon on Unworldliiiess ! 
May God write it in the hearts of the hearers ! 

' I thank God for our Bishop. His influence is of untold value ; 
he is so gentle, courteous, considerate, that he does not, I should 
think, usually give offence. I had the enjoyment yesterday of, I 
think, more than an hour's tete-a-tete with him. It interested me 
much, for Bishop Matthews never puts himself on a pedestal. If 
his Episcopal position resembles one, he comes down at once, with 
humility and frankness, and seems like a brother. The Bishop 
never appears to mind in the least my not calling him " lord," either 
in correspondence or in speaking. One has the impression that 
he does not care a straw about it. I am struck by the pains which 
he is taking about the case of a young Native Christian. . . . The 
Bishop is investigating the matter with father-like interest. ... It 
is a cause of deep thankfulness that European or Native can appeal 
to a good, wise Bishop.' 

Miss Tucker does not, here or elsewhere, state why she 
objected to calling a Bishop " my lord." 



TO Miss ' LEILA' HAMILTON. 

'July 3, 1892. 
'We had a Missionary Meeting last week, at which the most 
striking speech was that of Mr. Lefroy^ of Delhi. I could not 

1 Later, an adopted Nephew ; see pp. 498-9. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 487 

help thinking this, though the Bishop, Mr. Young, and my dear 
nephew, Dr. Weitbrecht, spoke before him. In simple, manly 
fashion, as one not thinking of human praise, Mr. Lefroy described 
what seemed to me like a grand single combat between himself 
and a Muhammadan Hafiz, — one who knows the whole Koran by 
heart — of great influence. The Hafiz, a great opposer of Christianity, 
asked ]Mr. Lefroy to have a long discussion with him, not saying 
that he must go, or was tired, etc. Our champion accepted the 
challenge at once. The Hafiz appointed a mosque as the place of 
meeting. 

' Mr. Lefroy went at the appointed hour, and, to his surprise, 
found about 500 Muhammadans waiting for him. They were very 
attentive listeners ; but great, very great, must have been the strain 
upon the noble and gifted Missionary. Till midnight, for about 
five hours and a half, in hot Delhi, in the fiery month of June, Mr. 
Lefroy held up the Christian Banner against the Hafiz and others. 
At midnight, after one Muhammadan had been arguing against our 
Faith, the Hafiz said to him : " If you can bring forward no better 
arguments, / will take the Missionary s hand^ and go out with him I " 
He did not do so then ; he had not sufficient courage to face the 
storm of opposition ; and again he failed on another occasion, to 
Mr. Lefroy's great disappointment. But after months, that Hafiz 
is a Baptized Christian now. God gave His champion the victory 
at last ! ' 



TO MISS HOERNLE. 



'July 18, 1892. 



' I am still, as you see, at Simla, but expect to start on my long 
journey downhill on the 21st. We have had a great quantity of 
rain. I hear that Batala is flooded, so the heat will be much 
lessened. . . . 

'Yesterday was Sunday, and the dear Bishop and a few others 
dined with us, and we had nice hymn-singing afterwards. How 
you would have liked to have occupied my seat at the dinner- 
table ! I was next the Bishop, and Dr. Weitbrecht sat just oppo- 
site. . . . 

' I need not tell you that the mountains are very beautiful ; 
especially, to my mind, when a white cloud, which has been, as 
it were, quite blotting them out, is lifted, and one beholds the 
glorious peaks and wooded valleys, lovely in the bright sunshine. It 



488 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

reminds one of the American Poet's striking lines on a yet loftier 
theme, — 

' ' ' Soon shall the whole 
Like a parched scroll 
Before my amazed eyes uproll, 
And without a screen, 
At a burst be seen, 
The Presence in which I have ever been ! " 

' Ah, dear Maria, well may we exclaim — 

' " O to be ready, ready, for that Day — 

Who would not cast Earth's dearest joys away ! " ' 



TO MRS. HAMILTON. 

'^Batala, Aug. 8, 1892. — Daisy and I are living in a remarkably 
damp world, as beautifully green as green can be. The rain is 
pouring furiously. My kahars had to wade through water to take 
me to the city. I had a good fire in my Gurub-i-Aftab to-day, 
not for warmth, but to keep away mustiness. . . . Damp is by no 
means as trying to me as cold, and it is a comfort to be in no 
danger of sand-storms. No dust now ; only " water, water, every- 
where." Happily I cannot add, "not a drop to drink"! . . . We 
have quite a bevy of our Mission ladies up at the Hills. I am very 
glad that they are there. Hard-working Minnie seems to be enjoy- 
ing herself so thoroughly. Did I tell you of a Hindu presenting, 
for her projected Hospital, a piece of ground, worth 700 rupees ? 
Herbert had a meeting of principal Batala folk ; and such interest 
was shown in Minnie's work, that — including a hundred rupees 
from the kind Deputy Commissioner — 551 rupees have been given 
or promised for the proposed Hospital.' 

TO MISS EDITH TUCKER. 

''Aug. 18, 1892. 
' I will tell you between ourselves, for I would not trouble sweet 
Aunt Hamilton about anything, that, in my old age, since I have 
attained seventy, I have had more experience of difficulties and 
worries than perhaps at any other period of my long Indian career. 
I need not describe the worries ; they are things that rub one, chafe 
one, make life's burden heavier. And why are they permitted, 
darling? I think that they keep us in a more humble, clingzjzg 
position. We cannot ask sympathy for such little things ; we are 
pitied for some troubles ; others we must keep to ourselves, — the 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 489 

latter perhaps try us most. But the dear Saviour knows ! He 
experienced daily trials of patience as well as great afflictions. It 
is good to remember this. Christ, in addition to cruel persecution 
from open enemies, had to bear the dulness of perception, the weak- 
ness of faith, the ambition, the tendency to quarrel, of His daily 
companions. If great troubles are like the burdens which expand 
into wings, it seems to me as if petty worries may turn into the 
soft, downy little feathers which line the wings. They make our 
wings softer for those whom we have to shelter beneath them. For 
as the Lord spreads His great Wing over us. He means us to spread 
our small ones over others.' 

TO MISS L. V. TUCKER. 

^ Sept. 21, 1892. 

*You call me "Fairy Frisket," dear. If I be like a Fairy, it is 
not pretty little Frisket, but rather the old woman of Nursery 
stories, with wrinkled face and high cap. Yet here I have frisked 
to Futteyghur. We have a little Christian congregation of peasant 
converts here, who assemble twice a day in a large, neat room, 
which serves for a church. It is well matted, and has a red curtain 
down the middle, to divide the men from the women. All sit on 
the ground ; only Auntie, on account of her age, is allowed a low 
seat. It is quite easy to me to sit on the ground ; but to get up 
again, — " there 's the rub." 

'"What o'clock is Service?" I asked of our excellent Native 
Pastor. " Half-past five in the morning ; afternoon half-past five. 
Before sunrise, and before sunset." I thought half-past five a.m. 
rather early ; but of course we accommodate our convenience to 
that of the peasants, who have to go to their work. Says I to 
Daisy, " You may trust me to awaken you at five ! " This is no 
hard matter to Auntie ! . . . When I sallied forth I could see Orion 
in the sky.' 

A few more scattered extracts from Miss Tucker's 
Journal may end this chapter. 

''Feb. 21, 1892. Sunday. — The best I have had since Narowal. 
Prayer seemed answered. 

'•Feb. 22. — Villages. Little B. H. Gave one Urdu Gospel to a 
young man. Some listened, but I encountered some rudeness. 
Almost pushed away. Ladder. Widow of Nain. . . . Went to 



490 LIFE AND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

house of Maulvi F. . . . He courteous. Some children rude. Sent 
him one of Gwynn's Gospels. 

' May 3. — Blessed rain. Three invalids recovering. Thank God. 

*" May &,. — Plough. Subject Passover. K. very nice. Gave Gur- 
mukhi Primer. Saw P. D. . . . Remembers Maria. Wants to learn 
Urdu. Had good conversation with S. . . . Saw pretty bibi and 
nice brother. He read first part of Acts ii. I lent him Day- 
break. 

' May 29. — Too poorly to go to early church. 

^June I. — Too poorly to go out. Wrote to poor, dear R. C. 

'' Jtme 3, — Plough. Short work ; very weak. Too weak and 
poorly for work. 

''June 10. — Left Batala. Dr. Lankester my escort. 

''June II. — Reached Simla, much wearied. Slept about thirteen 
hours. 

' Aug. 3. — A. B, Man sent me off at once ; but almost immediately 
recalled me ; and I had a very good talk with him. 
' C.'s Bibi. Courteous and pleasant. 
' D. E. Good visit. 
' F. Middling. 

' G. H. She nice ; but grumbling zemindar came in, 
' Old J. indifferent as usual, 
' H. did not see her, but sweet J. K.' 



CHAPTER XX 

A.D. 1892-1893 
THE LAST GREAT SORROW 

With the coming of autumn, accounts of Mrs. Hamilton's 
state grew steadily worse. In the middle of October Miss 
Tucker went for a few days to Rawal Pindi ; and the 
last letter which she received there, before starting on 
her return journey, prepared her for the coming blow. 
Arriving at Batala station in the early morning, her first 
question was — 

' Is there a telegram ? ' 

There was a telegram, and it was given to her im- 
mediately. Before seeing a word. Miss Tucker knew 
what the missive had to tell, — knew that her dearly 
loved sister had passed away. She opened it, and burst 
into a flood of tears. Reaching home. Miss Dixie led 
her to her own room, and there left her for a little while 
alone. 

Probably no sorrow in all her lifetime, except the 
death of her Father and the death of Letitia, had touched 
her so closely as this sorrow ; and even they were not 
the same, because through them she always had still her 
Laura. Now the sense of loneliness pressed upon her 
heavily. Whatever she had thought, whatever she had 
wished, whatever had aroused her interest or appealed 
to her sympathies, the immediate impulse had ever been 
to tell it to Mrs. Hamilton, — perhaps even more during 

491 



492 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

these long years in a far-off land, than in her English 
life. But indeed from very childhood, from the time 
when Laura was a little rosy, sweet-tempered, merry maid 
of four, and Charlotte was a wild-spirited, impulsive, and 
ambitious child of eight, the tie between them had been 
of a very unusual nature. They did not love merely as 
sisters, but as the nearest and dearest of intimate personal 
friends. What made the one happy made the other happy. 
What grieved the one grieved the other. 

And now for a while the tie was seemingly broken ; 
intercourse was at an end. True, Charlotte Tucker had 
been for sixteen long years and more separated by land 
and ocean from her sister. But the communion of mind 
with mind had been incessant throughout. True, the 
break was for a very little while. But this she could not 
possibly know. Old as she was, old in some respects 
beyond her years, she yet had a strong constitution, and 
a marvellous amount even now of wiry vigour. Weak 
she might be, in a sense ; nevertheless she could get 
through a round of work daily which few women of 
seventy would dream of attempting. It was well within 
the bounds of possibility that her life might be extended 
through another ten or twelve years, or even longer. 

' She felt her sister's death most dreadfully,' one of her 
nieces has said. Yet she did not lie crushed beneath the 
weight of her grief Work had still to be done ; and 
others had to be thought of and comforted. 

On the very day that she received the telegram she 
wrote to Mrs. Hamilton's daughter a letter full of sym- 
pathy for her niece's loss, scarcely mentioning her own. 

' I would take you as it were into my arms, . . . and weep with 
you, so that I might possibly even remind you of the sympathy 
of the precious Mother, whom you have not lost, but parted with 
for a little while. O, when you meet in Eternity, what a little 
while it will appear ! . . . You have the blessing of holy memories ; 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 493 

you know that you were a great comfort to the precious Invalid ; and 
you have the joy of hope, the hope of re-union. We are only pilgrims 
on the same road ; and one arrives before the other. Both have the 
same Home. 

' " And who can tell the rapture, when the circle is complete, 
And all the Family of God around the Father meet ? " 

' ... It will be a solace to you to look after your beloved Mother's 
poor. I am sure that many had cause to bless her. All her works 
of love done so quietly and unostentatiously ; but every one marked 
do\vn in God's "book of remembrance." What a wonderful joy 
the opening of that book will be ! Little kindnesses, acts of love, 
words of holy counsel, all marked down, not one forgotten. . . . 
Try to realise your Mother's happiness ! Has she not looked on 
the Lord Jesus, heard His Voice, received His welcome?' 

And again on the 27th of October : — 

'Try, dear one, to comfort others ; and then you will find comfort 
yourself. This is a world of suffering ; and the best Memorial to 
your precious Mother will be something that will be a blessing to 
others. To think of what she would have approved will be a solace 
to your mind.' 

On the same day she wrote to her nephew, the Rev. 
W. F. T. Hamilton : ' I go on with my daily Mission 
work ; it seems what I have specially to live for. Is it 
not possible that your sainted Mother takes an interest in 
it still?' 

In the first letter to Mrs. J. Boswell, after receiving the 
telegram, she spoke more openly of her own feelings : — 

' Oct. 23. — . . . Your letter to Lettie, which I saw at Pindi, before 
my own followed me there, quite prepared me for Edith's thoughtful 
telegram. I received that telegram at the Batala station, after my 
long dark night's journey back from Pindi. I thank and bless God for 

my precious sister's bliss ; but to me the blank ! I suppose that 

the funeral will be to-morrow ; in thought I follow my poor bereaved 
Leila, — but my mind dwells less on the grief of those left, than the 
joy of her who is with her Saviour. I thanked God for her to-day at 
Holy Communion. 

' I hope that there will be no unnecessary gloom to-morrow. It 



494 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

seems to me so incongruous to throw a heavy black pall over the 
dear form, when the spirit is wearing the shining white robe. I 
hate black, — the colour of sin and spiritual death ! My own beloved 
sister had nothing to do with either. My tears fall as I write ; but 
I dare not, cannot, murmur ; though life seems to me a weary 
pilgrimage. I am very home-sick, my Bella ; but the Lord will call 
me when He knows that I am ready. He gives me some work to do 
for Him. I must live for that.' 

And again, on the 4th of November : — 

' This has been a year of trials. Since I reached seventy, I feel as 
if my path had grown steeper, and flowers wither. But when the 
summit of the Hill is reached — what joy ! I can hardly help envying 
my sweet Laura ; and, oh, I am thankful that she was spared acute 
suffering ! Her end — as regards this world — was indeed peace ; her 
happiness will be never-ending. You see that I am again at 
Futteyghur, for about five days, to keep Miss Key company. ... It 
was no sacrifice to me to come out to the village, for I was glad to 
be in a very quiet place just now, Batala is too full of friends and 
too cheerful for my present mood. Work is congenial ; not cheerful 
meetings. Mrs. Corfield gave a sort of Concert on Wednesday, to 
which every one was invited ; but I, of course, stayed at home. 
There is no one but Daisy Key and myself here.' 

From the Journal entries it is evident that Miss Tucker 
gave herself only one clear day of rest — and that day a 
Sunday — for indulgence in any wise of her sorrow. She 
had the telegram on a Saturday ; and on Monday the 
usual round of visiting went on. 

' Oct. 20} — . . . My precious Laura departed.' 
' Oct. 22. — Returned to Batala. Telegram.' 

This is the brief Diary notice of what occurred. 

The next few months were marked by no very especial 
events ; only the usual ups and downs, anxieties, dis- 
appointments, encouragements, of Missionary work. 

^ This was a mistake. Mrs. Hamilton passed away on October 14 ; but the 
telegram was not sent for several days, to permit certain letters to arrive first. 
Miss Tucker failed to allow for this fact. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 495 

Missionaries came and went as usual ; and partings took 
place, some of which tried her much. Miss Eva Warren, 
who had spent several weeks with her in 1889, came in 
November to be a permanent inmate of ' Sunshine ' ; no 
small pleasure to Miss Tucker. But Miss Warren, like 
so many others, broke down under the Panjab climate ; 
and in the spring of 1893 she had to give up her post and 
return home. 

In April 1893 Miss Tucker wrote to her niece, Miss 
L. V. Tucker : — 

' Though I have written playfully to your father, I am not in a 
playful mood. This is such a year of partings for your poor old 
Auntie. You know about my Louis and Lettie ; then energetic 
Minnie Dixie left us ; to-day I go to the station for the last look of 
the dear, good Corfields . . . and their three fine children, accom- 
panied by Rosa Singha, who has been such a help and comfort here. 
On Monday week sweet Eva Warren, one of my most lovable 
companions, leaves me. ... I do not expect to see her again on 
earth. Next month Rowland Bateman, my very tip-top favourite 
amongst all Missionaries, is to start for England. What a blessing 
it is that there is One Friend Who says, " I will never leave thee, 
nor forsake " ; " Even to hoar hairs I will carry you " ! ' 

A few slight recollections of Miss Warren's may well 
come in here. They are of particular interest, being 
almost entirely of this last year of Miss Tucker's life, 
after the death of Mrs. Hamilton. The two had been very 
little together before November 1892, when Miss Warren 
returned from eighteen months' sick-leave, to be again in 
three months invalided. 

' She was very impulsive,' Miss Warren says. ' We used 
to say of her sometimes that she needed cool young heads 
to guide her. Her energy was very remarkable. During 
the last cold weather I was with her, I could see how 
much she felt the cold, but she would not give in in the 
least. . . . Being an Honorary Missionary, she was very 
scrupulous about not taking any extra privileges in the 



496 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

way of holidays. . . . My impression is that she had 
formerly known the language better than she did latterly. 
In spite of her efforts not to forget what she had learned, 
some had slipped away from her. She said to me one 
day : " I speak Hindustani as the Duke of Wellington 
used to talk French." "Oh," I said, "how was that?" 
" Bravely ! " she said. She had a very merry way of 
laughing, when anything amused her. 

' She said to me once : " I think what is wanted out 
here is — Missionaries' graves. Not the graves of young 
Missionaries, who have died here, but the graves of old 
Missionaries, who have given their whole lives for these 
people ! " . . . She was very humble about her own work, 
and used sometimes to be quite depressed after reading 
accounts of other people's successful work, thinking that 
she had met with no success.' 

Miss Warren relates also how she would not unfrequently 
say : ' So-and-so is one of those people who think me a 
great deal better than I am.' Her conversation was still 
very bright and full of interest ; the active mind had by no 
means parted with its vigour. Sometimes she would talk 
eagerly about old days, and tell stories of the Duke of 
Wellington, a subject which always aroused her. Or again 
she would plunge into the topic of Shakespeare's Plays. 
Or she would read some of her favourite Spurgeon's 
Sermons. Another pet book of hers was Baxter's Saints' 
Rest ; and this she read through with Miss Warren. 
Occasionally still she would read aloud one of her own 
stories in the evening. Happily, she retained her old love 
of games ; and they must have been a great relaxation 
after the hard day's work. Sometimes, when Miss Warren 
had been reading or studying, she would say : * Now you 
must come and frisk a little ! ' 

The old untidiness in dress had never been overcome ; 
and the mixture of colours was often remarkable. But 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 497 

though the clothes might not be artistically chosen, or put 
on with great neatness, they were always daintily clean, — 
no matter how many years they might have been in use. 

Thin and fragile-looking as Miss Tucker had always 
been, she was by this time hardly more than mere skin 
and bone ; and her face was singularly covered all over 
with fine wrinkles. This it was, no doubt, which helped 
to give her the appearance, spoken of by so many, of 
being far older than she really was, — rather like ninety 
than like seventy. The vigour and energy which she still 
retained were, however, certainly not like ninety, — or even 
like seventy. 

Here are a few more selections from the Journal in the 
year 1893, — the closing year of Charlotte Tucker's Indian 
life :— 

''Feb. 21. — Village. B. Saw fourteen girls ; only eleven worthy of 
being counted. Heard of five more. CD. Did not see him, but E., 
F., and another familiar face. Men and women listened to story 
of Knocking, etc. Some man said, did not understand me. I 
repeated John iii. 16, and asked E. to repeat it too. He did so, and 
no one could pretend not to understand. I asked E. to instruct 
them ; he said simply that it was difficult for a Hindu to teach about 
Christ, and twice said that a Christian preacher should be sent. 
Hindu Bibis nice. Seeing the picture of Knocking, they seemed to 
understand ; and one or two appeared to have opened the door of 
the heart. . . .' 

' Feb. 22. — G. H. Gentle, pleasing. I lent her Stories for 
Women. J. nicer than I have ever found her. K., a delightful visit. 
Her husband, L. M., a fine-looking man, has returned, and the 
family are so happy. I saw first one, then another child, on the 
father's knee ; the sweet wife's face is full of pleasure. L. M. says 
that he is going to be a Christian. . . . His brother, N. O., seems a 
thoughtful, nice man. He is puzzled about God's having a Son, but 
told me that he did not ask questions for controversy, but wishing 
to be instructed. . . .' 

' March 27. — Village. P. Sirdar's house. Pretty bibi, not attentive, 
and bhatija ill-mannered. Other boys listened, specially nice R. 
2 I 



498 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

. . . Take more Urdu and Gurmukhi, and a little Hindi next time 
Gave three Gospels and other books. Weather cold/ 

^ May 19. — S. T. Charming. U. V. sixteen years old. Appears to 
be the wife of the uncle of some and grandfather of others, in the 
house. . . . Has Gospel and Pilgrim^s Progress. Read and trans- 
lated to me some pages of latter, with great emphasis. Seems a 
believer. I have sent her Psalms in Hindi. . . .' 

''June 15. — Adopted Lefroy as Nephew. . . .Fancy-fair.' 

''June 17. — With W.'s bibi and Ayahs, Ascension and Pentecost. 
Evening walk, met two respectable-looking men. Had Urdu and 
Hindi Gospels in my hand. One man's glance at Urdu encouraged 
me to offer it. Man much pleased. Talked English ; in some way 
belongs to Viceroy. Wished to give me something for Gospel. I 
said that I did not sell, but gave it with pleasure. Other man readily 
received Hindi Gospel. A little farther met with a curious-looking 
man, with appearance of a devotee. Offered him Gurmukhi Gospel. 
Accepted eagerly, and, to my surprise, took my hand, and said 
earnestly in English, " Thanks — dear — Madam ! " Lord, bless Thy 
Word ! ' 

''June 27. — Returned from Simla. Happy journey downhill with 
dear Lefroy. I have left Batala work for four weeks and four days. 

''June 28. — Full of difficulties. Lord, help me ! CLOSED 
DISPENSARY." 

''Aug. 31. — . . . Here closes August, a month of Blessings. . . .' 

^ Oct. 28.— Village. P. started for V. But all V.'s inhabitants 
seemed to have turned out for the funeral of a young man. Probably 
eighty or a hundred present. I turned to the left, where about forty 
women and girls were standing or seated on the ground. I repeated 
twice over to them, not singing, a little hymn which I had made ; 
also the precious verse, " God so loved." Had not only good 
listening, but some of the women repeated after me the burden of 
the hymn. I had chest-cold, so could not have sung without 
coughing.' 

The last page of Miss Tucker's Diary, which follows 
immediately after this entry of October 28, is reproduced 
in facsimile. 

Writing to Miss Minnie Dixie on July 21, 1893, she 
asked : ' Have you heard that I have a new nephew, Mr. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 499 

Lefroy? He is Irish, of Huguenot descent. . . . He is a 
gifted man, and a devoted Missionary.' Mr. Lefroy, 
belonging to the Cambridge Delhi Mission, which is in 
connection with the S.P.G., has been mentioned in an 
earlier letter as arguing for over five successive hours 
with Muhammadans in a mosque. This was probably 
the latest of her numerous Indian ' adoptions.' 

She was for months in much trouble about the 
Dispensary, as it seemed impossible to find any one, 
European or Indian, capable of undertaking it and also 
free to do so. The attendance had been good ; often 
more than a hundred women in one day coming for help ; 
and Miss Tucker was exceedingly desirous to keep it open. 
But so many had broken down, or were absent on fur- 
lough, that for a while the closing proved unavoidable. 

That, from time to time. Miss Tucker suffered from 
depression and moods of sadness, there can be no question. 
She never allowed such moods to interfere with her work ; 
but she was not always in a state of high spirits and 
rejoicing. If nothing else showed this, it would be plain 
from certain brief passages in her journal, occurring at 
intervals, — sometimes at long intervals. Such passages as 
these speak plainly : — 

' 1888. — I have suffered a good deal from bodily languor and mental 
depression.' ' 1888. Depression has overtaken me. Thank God, 
not doubt or despair.' ' 1891. Felt the weight of years much ; work 
a struggle.' '1892. I begin my seventy-second year with a sense 
of weakness almost amounting to exhaustion.' 

But these and others of the same description were 
exceptional. In a general way her steadfast courage and 
cheerfulness were remarkable. 

On the 30th of August 1893 she wrote to Mr. Bateman 
in a strain as cheery as ever, despite the weight of years 
and worries : — 

* O MY DEAREST ROWLAND, — So you take to lecturing your ancient 



500 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Auntie, because she has come down to the Plains, where even an old 
woman is needed^ instead of being a weak, languishing, fine lady up 
at Simla, where she was not needed one bit. Why, I am ever so 
much more frisky here, more cheerful and well, as well as more 
useful. Barring a few infirmities of age, I am in as good health, I 
think, as I ever was in England. I paid a good visit to-day to a 
village about four miles off, and am none the worse. Why, Rowland, 
I am actually the only Missionary, man or woman, now in Batala ; 
and I have not dear Babu Singha, for he is at Chamba. W^ho would 
there be to escort our little train of bibis and bachelors to Chapel 
every afternoon, if an old dame were not here ? I feel like a hen 
with chickens ; and Herbert said that we look like a school. We are 
sometimes the better part of the congregation ; for we have little 
girls home from school, and expect more here, and two little boys 
also from Narowal. Batala without a Miss T. would be like a teapot 
without a top. 

' But you must not fancy that I am alone. Mr. Clark has con- 
siderately sent me a lovely young German lady, to keep house for me, 
which she does very nicely, and I am becoming a Httle fatter. I 
often take her to Zenanas with me ; but there she is rather a hindrance 
than a help. . . . People will stare at her, instead of listening to me. 
She cannot help being attractive. She is very happy with me ; but 
of course, as she does not do Mission work, this arrangement must 
not continue after Miss Clarke com.es back from the Hills. 

' Now I hope that you are satisfied, dear Rowland, that there has 
been no fooHsh imprudence, or worshipping of her old broken net, on 
the part of your ever attached AuNTlE. 

' Kind love to Helen. Mr. Gray is to come for next Sunday's 
services ! ' 

On the 13th of October, in a letter to Miss Edith 
Tucker, she observed : ' I have such a nice Missionary 
companion, Miss Gertrude Clarke. . . . Batala is filling 
again ; it was so empty during the holidays, that, had 
not Miss L. been sent to keep me company, I should 
have had no European within twenty miles. I was sole 
Missionary here.' 

On the 31st of the same month, October, she wrote to 
Miss Minnie Dixie : — 

' I made a grand expedition last week, — I have still four days of 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 501 

my six weeks' holiday left ; but as we enter November to-morrow, 
I am not likely to take them. I actually went to Bahrwal, and saw 
the Consecration of Mr. and Mrs. Perkins' choice little church ; 
simple, but in nice taste. . . . The dear Bishop was of course there, 
and held a Confirmation Service in the afternoon, at which about 
twelve or fourteen Peasant converts were received. I saw a good 
many friends. . . , 

' I send you a little hymn, which you may like to sing. It is 
perhaps the last thing which may be composed by your affectionate 
aged Auntie, C. M. Tucker.' 

From these words it would seem as if already some 
dim sense had come that her time on Earth was nearly 
over. She was indeed drawing very close to the dark 
River, which to her did not look dark but bright ; and 
perhaps her eyes had already caught the ' glitter ' of its 
waters. A friend, writing soon after, observed : ' She had 
been growing more and more conscious of weakness, if 
not actually weaker, and was looking forward eagerly to 
release.' In the month of November came what she was 
wont to call 'her Indian Birthday,' — the day on which she 
had first landed on Indian shores, eighteen years before. 
And, as she soon after said, when ill, though not yet so ill 
as to cause anxiety : ' When the Anniversary of my arrival 
in this country came round this year, I felt that my work 
was done, and that I should not live to see another.' 

To some minds it may appear as if this perpetual longing 
for death contained something of a morbid and unhealthy 
nature. No doubt, as a general rule, it is perfectly natural 
to cling to life, to shrink from death ; and where a desire 
for the latter exists, it often is romantic and unnatural, 
or else it arises from impatience of life's troubles, and 
from a wish to escape those troubles. This, however, 
was not the case with Charlotte Tucker. Her romance 
was never unhealthy romance ; she was not cowardly, nor 
was she in the least morbid. On the contrary, she was 
thoroughly healthy, high-spirited, vigorous in body and 



502 LTFE'lAND LETTERS OF CHARLOTTE M. TUCKER 

mind, — exceptionally vigorous for her years, through the 
greater part of middle life and old age, till within a short 
time before her death. And although she had certainly 
numerous trials in the course of her seventy-two years, — 
as who has not ? — hers was in many respects a very happy 
life. She had freedom from money cares ; she had plenty 
of interests ; she had success in her pursuits ; she had 
abundance of loving and steadfast friends ; she had, above 
all, one most satisfying intimacy ; and, in addition to these 
things, she had a natural buoyancy, a keen sense of fun, 
a ready appreciation of the ridiculous, which in themselves 
would brighten life, and which are not characteristics 
usually found in morbid and self-centred people. 

What was unusual in her was the strong and intense 
realisation of the Other World. Spiritual things to her 
were absolutely real. That which is unseen was to her as 
if seen. The love of Christ was more to her than the love 
of all earthly friends. Paradise was more to her than 
Earth. It was not that she did not love Earth, but that 
her love for Heaven was greater. It was not that she 
could not enter into the bright things of this world, but 
that she found the things of the Other World brighter 
still. She could never be satisfied with the present life ; 
because she was always craving for the higher existence, 
always longing to rise ' nearer — nearer ' to God. She was 
like a caged lark, impatient for freedom. And at last, 
after all these years of waiting, the time was come. 



CHAPTER XXI 

A.D. 1893 

THE HOME-GOING 

Up to the end of October Miss Tucker had seemed to be 
on the whole much the same as usual ; though more than 
one watcher had noted a gradual failure of strength. The 
expedition to Bahrwal, for the Dedication, proved to be 
too much for her powers ; especially as she insisted on 
returning to Batala the same evening, so as not to break 
into another day's work. 

At the time she appeared, as Mrs. Wade afterwards 
wrote, 'though frail, wonderfully bright, . . . full of 
conversation while talking to the Bishop and others.' 
When the ' feast ' took place she sat upon the ground 
among the Indian Christians, after her old style, utterly 
refusing a chair. Some who were present left in the 
middle of the day, so soon as the Dedication was over ; 
but Miss Tucker remained till the evening, so as to be 
present at the second Service. Notwithstanding her 
brightness, Mr. Clark was much impressed with the 
alteration in her look ; and he has since said that ' she 
evidently believed it to be her leave-taking.' 

The day ended, Miss Tucker seemed very much 
exhausted ; and when returning by rail, with Mr. and Mrs. 
Wade, she lay down on the seat to rest. The result of 
this expedition was a severe cold, with much hoarseness ; 
and though her daily work went on as usual, she must 

503 



504 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

have felt very poorly. Mr. Clark speaks of her as, a few- 
days later, passing through Amritsar, and calling to see 
himself and his wife. So ill did he think her looking, that 
the expression he makes use of is : ' Death was even then 
written on her face.' 

Others do not appear to have been so soon alarmed. 
On November 13, writing to Miss Dixie, Miss Tucker 
mentioned casually, ' I have a cold,' as an excuse for 
her shaking hand ; and said no more. But it was ' the 
beginning of the end.' 

About this time she kindly took in a friend, Mrs. C , 

who seemed poorly and in need of change ; and who, 
after coming to ' Sonnenschein,' proved to be seriously ill. 
Miss Tucker sat much with her, in a hot room ; going out 
from thence, late each evening, into the night air, to reach 
her own little dwelling. On the i ith, two days before her 
letter to Miss Dixie, she confessed to pain in the side, 
telegraphed for a nurse, and w^ent to bed. Next day, 
Sunday, she was up again, and at Church. Then the 
Nurse appeared, to be sent off on Monday, in charge of 

Mrs. C , to Amritsar ; after which again Miss Tucker 

went dow^n. 

Dr. Clark came to see her ; and though the fever was 
not very high, and no especial anxiety was felt, it was 
decided that she ought to go to Amritsar to be nursed — 
a Doctor there being on the spot. Miss Tucker was much 
grieved at the decision. She longed to remain, and to die 
in her dear Batala ; and even then, evidently, she was 
making up her mind to the likelihood of death. But, 
however unwillingly, she submitted to the wishes of 
others, and went. 

The journey did no harm ; and on arrival at Amritsar 
Miss Tucker was most tenderly nursed by her friend, Miss 
Wauton, and others, with the help soon of a regular nurse. 
But though the fever yielded to remedies, and the 



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CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 505 

bronchitis improved, both the cough and pain becoming 
for some days better, she was worn out, and had no 
rallying power. The weakness was extreme, and the 
dislike to food could not be overcome. Steadily and 
slowly she sank, lasting just three weeks from the date of 
the latest tremulous entry in her Journal. 

Dr. Arthur Lankester^ had written on the 27th of 
October : ' Sorry to say Auntie has taken a severe chill 
at Bahrwal ; she looks very frail and weak ; only, she 
is so wonderful that we all hope she will soon be about 
once more, to cheer us all with her bright, sweet smile.' 
He wrote again on Nov. 22 : ' Dear Miss Tucker has been 
moved to the Mission-house here,^ and I am thankful to 
be allowed to be with her. She is very, very ill, but so 
bright, and longing to go " Home." I fear she is fast 
sinking. It is a great privilege to be allowed to help look 
after her.' And again, on Nov. 30 : ' Auntie sinking fast ; 
the end can't be far off. O what joy and glory are 
waiting for her ! — for us a terrible blank that nothing can 
fill. No one could be quite like her.' 

The last dictated letter of Charlotte Tucker was to her 
niece, Mrs. J. Boswell, on the 21st of November : — 

' My dearest Bella Francis, — You will all like to know how I 
am getting on. I have come again to House Beautiful in Amritsar, 
where the four sweet damsels, Faith, etc., ghde about to see to my 
comfort. Yesterday dear Gertrude joined us, and also Miss B. A., 
so there is a regular bevy. Dr. Clark said yesterday, with a very 
broad smile, that we were getting on ; but I cannot quite see the pith 
of this. When a worn-out ekka horse tumbles down on the road, and 
no one can make him get up, one can scarcely say that he is getting 
on. Getting up must come first. I ought to be very thankful for so 
much kindness ; but you can imagine, darling, that when I hope to 
soar on eagle's wings, it is rather a trial to have the doctor tie them 
down so tightly, that when I hope to fly I cannot even creep. 

' I fancy this has been an attack of bronchitis and influenza. 
Now this is difficult to me even to dictate. Would you have little 
1 Missionary. 2 At Amritsar, 



5o6 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

bulletins roughly printed on my account, and put them in envelopes, 

and send them to ?' : after which follows a list of relatives and 

friends in England, together with one or two short messages, and a 
request that they would ask for her ' patience and perfect submission.' 

The day succeeding Miss Tucker's arrival in Amritsar 
Mrs. Wade came to see her ; and during either that call or 
the next Miss Tucker put the question, ' Is my face altered? ' 
Mrs. Wade hesitated, unable to deny that she saw a 
change. Miss Tucker immediately added : ' Don't mind 
telling me. It is harder to be patient on this pillow than to 
go inside the Golden Gate.' And to Miss Jackson she said : 
' To depart and to be with Christ is so very much better !' 

Many friends came to ask after her ; but on account of 
her excessive feebleness a very limited number could be 
admitted ; only one or two in the day, and merely for a 
few minutes each. 

One day, on hearing Mr. Clark's voice outside, she said, 
' Is that Mr. Clark ? ' They told her that she must not 
see any one ; she was too weak. ' But I must see him ! ' 
she replied ; and then, ' I will see him ! ' — with a flash of 
the old determination. When he was brought in she said 
to him : ' I am dying ! I know it. I am very happy, — 
in perfect peace, — without a doubt or a care, — but I have 
none of the rapturous feelings of triumph, which I have 
rather looked forward to ! ' Then she added : ' It is best 
as it is ! ' The next day and the day after, when Mr. 
Clark was again admitted, she was both times too ill to 
say anything. 

She was indeed this time far too entirely worn out and 
exhausted, both bodily and mentally, for any shout of joy. 
All was quiet trust, perfect confidence ; but eagerness 
and exultation were physically out of the question. She 
could only wait peacefully to be carried through the waters 
of the River. Rapture would come when she reached the 
Other Side. 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 507 

Still, there was the same longing as ever to go. Several 
times she said : ' Do not pray that I may stay here.' And 
another time : ' Christ has abolished death ! I am longing 
to go Home ! ' 

On Sunday, November 26th, Mr. Wade came to her 
room for Holy Communion ; Miss Wauton and Miss 
Jackson being present. Miss Tucker was perfectly clear 
in mind, and able to join audibly in the responses ; but 
the after-exhaustion was great. 

Sometimes she would speak lovingly of her friends, and 
would wish that she could see one and another. ' It is a 
pity Rowland Bateman is not here,' she said. Also she 
would give directions for presents to be sent to one and 
another after her death. On the 27th she sent for Babu 
Singha, and mentioned particulars as to the manner in 
which she wished her funeral to be conducted. The boys 
— her dear brown boys, as she had so often called them — 
were to carry her to the grave, on a native charpai. No 
coffin was to be used ; and the expenditure might not 
exceed five rupees. She was of course to be buried in 
Batala. Nobody was to shed tears ; nobody was to put 
on mourning ; and her own funeral hymn, one which she 
had written quite lately in Urdu, was to be sung. 

One day Miss Jackson repeated the hymn, ' For ever 
with the Lord ! ' — and Miss Tucker said, ' That is my 
favourite hymn ! ' So it too was afterwards chosen to be 
sung at the funeral. 

On Wednesday, November 29, her temperature fell to 
95°; and great difficulty was experienced in restoring it to 
normal. Two days later it fell again; and this time there 
was no rally. The cough and other symptoms were ex- 
ceedingly trying ; and all Friday night she suffered greatly 
from oppression, restlessness, and weariness. Again and 
again she could be heard to murmur, 'Quickly ! Quickly!' 
Nothing else that she said could be distinguished. 



5o8 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

Early in the morning of Saturday, December the 2nd, 
she became more placid ; and when asked if she felt any 
pain she made a negative sign. Dr. Weitbrecht came to 
read and pray with her. She seemed to recognise him, 
and to understand what he said ; but she had no power 
to articulate. Soon after this unconsciousness set in, and 
lasted to the end, broken only once by a lifting of the eye- 
lids, and an upward look, as if she saw something which 
others could not see. 

At a quarter-past three in the afternoon, calmly and 
without a struggle, she passed away. 

The change which came over her in death was 
remarkable. A change is often seen ; a return sometimes 
to greater youth and beauty. Death smooths away 
wrinkles, refines rugged features, sharpens the outlines. 
But in this case the transformation was of a rare type. ' I 
never saw a face so altered,' wrote Dr. Clark, who had 
attended her. ' It became a face of massive power ; more 
like that of the Duke of Wellington than anything else ; 
the nose particularly so, and the jaw. A strong, massive, 
determined, powerful face. I suppose the power was 
always there, but masked by the habitual gentleness and 
tender consideration for all around, which was so beautiful 
a feature in her beautiful character.' 

This allusion to the Duke of Wellington naturally 
recalls her ardent admiration for him. She would in life 
have probably counted no compliment greater than to 
have been called like him. But the description is singular, 
because her features had never been of the same type as 
the Duke's features. She had not a Roman nose ; and 
while many describe hers as a ' bright face,' ' a spark- 
ling face,' ' a long, thin face,' and even in one case ' a 
small face,' no one ever uses such words as ' massive ' or 
' powerful,' as descriptive of her appearance at any period 
of her life. The touch of death seems to have torn away 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 509 

a kind of veil, leaving bare the original outlines ; per- 
haps to some extent indicating what the face might 
have become, if unsoftened by the moulding influences 
of discipline. 

Miss Jackson wrote from Amritsar, on Monday, Decem- 
ber 4th : ' Yesterday the Dead March was played in 
Church, and all the congregation stood. It was announced 
that all who wished to take a last look at the dear face 
could do so at our house at a certain hour ; and about 
sixty availed themselves of this permission.' And Miss 
Wauton adds : ' Miss Jackson will have told you that 
many friends in Amritsar came on Sunday afternoon, to 
take their last look at the peaceful sleeper. The hands 
were clasped as if in prayer. The face was thin and 
worn ; but this only brought out a clearer chiselling of the 
features ; and the calmness of death gave a grandeur and 
nobility to the expression, beyond anything we had seen 
in the face while living. She looked, as one friend said, 
" like a Crusader." ' 

On December the 4th they bore all that remained on 
Earth of Charlotte Tucker from Amritsar to Batala. As 
she had forbidden the use of a coffin, the body was laid 
upon a small Native bedstead, and, being carefully secured 
in position, was conveyed thus, not by rail but by road. 
On reaching Batala, the charpai, with its quiet burden, 
was placed in the Church of the Epiphany, — known col- 
loquially as ' the large Church,' to distinguish it from 
the little School ' Chapel,' — there to remain till morning. 
Some of the Baring High School boys took turns in 
watching beside the loved form all night through. 

Next day, Tuesday, was fixed upon for the funeral. It 
had been delayed unusually long, to allow friends from a 
distance to be present. A great many came from Amrit- 
sar, Lahore, and other stations ; and a message from the 
Bishop expressed his regret at being unavoidably kept 



5IO THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

away by a Confirmation. The Archdeacon and the 
Bishop's Chaplain were both present, as also were Dr. 
Weitbrecht, Mr. Clark, Mr. Wade, Mr. Mackenzie, Mr. 
Wright, Mr. Wigram, Mr. Shireff, Mr. Hoare, Mr. Cover- 
dale, and Mr. Grey, all in white surplices. A large con- 
gregation filled the whole Church, including Missionaries, 
friends, Native Christians, Non-Christians of Batala, and 
boys of both the High School and the ' Plough.' The 
first part of the Burial Service was read there ; and two 
or three hymns were sung. Mr. Clark preached a short 
sermon from Acts i. 8. 

Then began the Procession from the Church to the 
little Christian Cemetery ; the latter being close to ' Son- 
nenschein,' and nearly two miles away from the Church. 
Happily it was a cool day ; and the roads had been well 
watered beforehand. A Police-guard preceded the Pro- 
cession. 

First came the surpliced Clergy ; then the bier, which 
was covered with a white chaddah ; while many beautiful 
white Crosses and wreaths sent by friends were laid upon 
it. Some of the older schoolboys carried the bier, taking 
turns. Next came the ladies and other Missionaries ; 
also the general congregation, and the rest of the boys. 
Crowds of leading Batala men were present. A letter 
from Miss Wauton, written at the time, describes the scene 
graphically : — 

'After the Easter hymn, " Lo, in the grave He lay," the congrega- 
tion then formed into Procession ; the Clergy first, then the Bier. . . . 
The long line of followers stretched out, till we could scarcely see the 
end of it. The distance being about two miles, the walk occupied 
more than an hour. Hymns were sung the whole way ; and the groups 
of people, Hindus and Muhammadans, who lined the road and 
crowded the tops of the houses, as we passed the city, seemed much 
interested in looking on. Many of them, I think, came as far as the 
Cemetery. 

' As we passed through the gates, copies of a hymn were distri- 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 5" 

buted, which the dear Auntie had composed about three weeks before 
she was taken ill. On sending it to me at the time, she added in her 
letter : " Perhaps you will like to see my little funeral hymn. Perhaps 
it may be sung when I go to sleep." 

'We also had the hymn, "Jesus lives"; and closed with her favourite, 
" For ever with the Lord." Deep feeling was shown ; and many of the 
boys could scarcely restrain their tears. We all felt we had lost a 
friend, such as we should never see again. The Mission is bereaved, 
— not only Batala, but the whole of the Panjab ; and we all mourn 
our loss together. . . . 

* Dr. Weitbrecht had arranged everything for yesterday most 
beautifully. The whole Service was, I think, in perfect accordance 
with her wishes ; simple, sweet, and solemn, yet with an element of joy 
and hope about it, which was suitable to her bright, joyous nature. 
We could indeed give thanks for the fight she had fought, the 
course she had finished, the crown she had won ; and so we laid her 
down, — till the Day break and the shadows flee away, " Till He 
come ! " ' 

Another eye-witness, Mrs. Wade, wrote : — 

' We were very thankful that it was possible to delay the meeting 
at Batala till Tuesday, as it gave opportunity for friends from some 
distance to be present. We all met in the Church for the first part 
of the Service and sermon by Mr. Clark, — the dear familiar face no 
longer among the worshippers, but in the King's Presence. . . . The 
walk from the Church to the little Cemetery, quite near her own home, 
is long, and occupied an hour ; during which time many hymns of 
faith and love were softly sung, and at the grave her own hymn, one 
she had composed not six weeks ago for her own funeral. . . . Dr. 
Weitbrecht then completed the Service. . . . The silence of the on- 
lookers, as one went towards the grave, was very noticeable. Many 
of them felt that they had indeed lost a friend. A large number of 
the Native gentlemen of the City were present in the Church and 
during the Service, with reverent demeanour ; and when we had left, 
I was told, many of the poor women came to weep at her grave. 

' We thank God for all she was during the long life, and especially 
in the eighteen years in India. . . . Batala will never be the same. 
Many of the elder boys, who carried her, were weeping.' 

And from the pen of Dr. Weitbrecht we have the 
following : — 

' After the Burial was over, I spoke a few words about her to the 



512 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF 

many people who had assembled from outside, trying to impress on 
them the motive power of her life : " The love of Christ constraineth 
us." After most of the Clergy and visitors had left the Cemetery, a 
number of women from the city came to take a last look, and to wail 
at the grave. Times without number, gentlemen of Batala and men 
of lower standing come to tell me how she went to their houses, and 
sympathised with their wives and daughters in joy and sorrow. Not 
a few will miss her open-handed charity ; and, far more, her bright, 
ever-ready sympathy.' 

The Urdu hymn, written by Miss Tucker for her own 
funeral, has been roughly translated as follows : — 

' The beloved Jesus sleeps in the grave ; 
Morn breaks, and He Who came to save 
Has risen, glorious King of Kings, 
Victorious o'er all evil things. 
It is Christ's power, Christ's glorious Crown ; 
His rule shall spread with much renown ; 
Christ has risen, ne'er to die ; 
Hallelujah ! Victory ! ' 

One fact may be mentioned, as a slight token of the 
loving esteem in which she was held. When Miss Wauton 
took the hymn to be printed, the Manager of the Press, — 
not himself a Christian, but one who had known Miss 
Tucker, — said immediately, * Oh, are those lines Miss 
Tucker's ? Then I will do them for nothing.' He printed 
off some hundreds at his own expense. 

Out of the innumerable letters written to friends, after 
the passing away of Charlotte Tucker, three short extracts 
alone must be given. 

FROM THE BISHOP OF LAHORE. 

' For the simple yet always aspiring spirit the change will be a 
blessed one indeed ! Her endurance unto the end, and her constant 
rejoicing in the Lord, have been a great example, which many of us 
need to follow. ... It was a beautiful and consistent life ; and she 
will still speak, though out of sight.' 



CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 513 

FROM THE REV. ROBERT CLARK. 

' Miss Tucker . . . will not be easily forgotten there (at Batala), nor 
indeed in India generally, where her name will long continue to be a 
household word, both for what she was and for what she did. In 
giving her to India, the Church of Christ gave of her very best.' 

FROM THE REV. ROWLAND BATEMAN. 

' There is but one voice from India, whether it comes from Natives 
or Europeans. . . . Do you know those lines of Toplady's, beginning, 
" Deathless Principle arise"? They are old-fashioned and out of 
date, i.e. out of the range of the rising generation, but they are 
peculiarly beautiful, and keep recurring, as I mentally pass through 
the ministry which Miss Wauton and others were privileged to offer 
to our beloved Aunt in Amritsar. There is one touch in Dr. Weit- 
brecht's p.c. which may not have reached you. He mentions that 
many women came from the city, to wail at the grave. This is as it 
should be ; for though we know better than to wail or even weep over 
the grave, in them it is but the expression of love and appreciation 
and real kindred. Nobody — I speak of non-Christians — weeps and 
wails except over relatives. We are sorely wounded, and our spirits 
suffer a sort of collapse ; but we have only to go over the hallowed, 
holy memory of her converse and example, to feel refreshed and 
braced again. 

' ' ' With joy and gladness has she been brought, 
And has entered into the King's Palace." ' 



So ends the story of Charlotte Maria Tucker ; for fifty- 
four years A Lady OF ENGLAND, and for eighteen years 
A Lady of India. It is the story of a brave and self- 
sacrificing life, whether in her quiet English home, or in 
the vicissitudes of her Indian career. I have done my 
best to present her simply and truly as that which she was, 
— a very unusual and noble character, with of course some 
of those defects which are found in even the best and 
noblest of men and women. Charlotte Tucker would her- 
self have been the first to deprecate any attempt to make 
her out a faultless being. Faultless she was not ; but she 

2K 



514 CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER 

was singularly true, unselfish, devoted, single-hearted, 
earnest-minded, and loving. 

The one aim perpetually before her eyes was to carry 
out the Will of her Father in Heaven, alike in the greatest 
and in the smallest matters. Whether she were striving 
to bring the Heathen to a knowledge of the Truth, whether 
she were discussing difficult questions with a Muhammadan, 
whether she were writing a book, whether she were enter- 
taining a guest, whether she were trying to cheer a sick 
friend, whether she were playing a game with little brown 
boys, — in any case she put the whole of herself into the 
task which she had in hand, and she did it ' unto God.' 
To the utmost of her ability, all that she undertook was 
done thoroughly. There was no half-heartedness, no 
slurring over of one thing or another. Difficulties, opposi- 
tions, failures, discouragements, lack of apparent results, 
all these, instead of disheartening her, seemed rather to 
spur her on to renewed efforts. 

Beyond the few words above, no eulogistic ending to 
her Biography is needed. If her Life as it was lived does 
not speak for itself, mere words of praise would be thrown 
away. It is possible that her example, in going out to 
India after the age of fifty, will lead others to do the 
same ; and if so, one object of her going will have been 
accomplished. That may well be the result in England of 
her eighteen years' toil. The results in India lie beyond 
our puny powers of measurement. 



LIST OF PRINCIPAL BOOKS BY A. L. O. E. 
Published in England. 



1852. 


". 


d. 


Claremont Tales, . 


. Gall & Inglis, . 


I 


6 


185. 


3-56. 






Glimpses of the Unseen, 
True Heroism, 
Life of Luther, 
Wings and Stings, 
The Adopted Son, 
The Giant-Killer, . 
The Young Pilgrim, 
Angus Tarlton, 


. Gall & Inglis, . 

Do. 
. Groom, , 
Nelson »S: Sons, 
Gall & Inglis, . 
. Nelson & Sons, 
Do. 
Gall & Inglis, . 


I 



I 
2 

3 



6 
6 
6 
6 

6 
6 
6 


1857. 






Daybreak in Britain, 
The Roby Family, 
History of a Needle, 
Rambles of a Rat, . 


Religious Tract Society, . 
Nelson & Sons, 

Do. 

Do. 


I 

2 
I 
2 



6 
6 
6 


1858. 






Flora, 

The Mine, 

Old Friends with New Faces, 
Precepts in Practice, 
Futteypore, .... 
Cottage by the Stream, 
Harry Dangerfield, 


Nelson & Sons, 

Do. 

Do. 

Do. 
S. P. C. K. 
Gall & Inglis, . 

Do. 


I 
I 
2 

3 





6 
6 

6 

3 
6 


18 


59- 






Idols in the Heart, 
Whispering Unseen, 
The Lost Jewel, 


Nelson & Sons, 

Do. 
Shaw & Co., 


2 

'-» 

3 


6 


6 



515 



5i6 



LIST OF PRINCIPAL BOOKS 



Pride and his Prisoners, 

Gain and Loss, 

Parliament in the Playroom, . 


i860. 
. Nelson & Sons, 
. Gall & Inglis, . 
. Nelson & Sons, 

1861. 


J. 

- 3 
. 
. I 


d. 
6 

3 
6 


Illustrations of Parables, 
Shepherd of Bethlehem, 
My Neighbour's Shoes, 


. Gall & Inglis, . 
. Nelson & Sons, 
Do. 

1862. 


. 3 
I 


6 
6 
6 


War and Peace, 
Light in the Robbers' Cave, . 
Christian Love and Loyalty, . 
Christian Conquests, 


. Nelson & Sons, 

Do. 
. Gall & Inglis, . 

Do. 


2 

2 

. 2 

. I 


6 
6 
6 
6 


Pretty Present for Pets, 
Silver Casket, 

Sketch of History of the Jews, 
Crown of Success, . 


1863. 
. Nelson & Sons, 
Do. 
Do. 
Do. 


I 

2 
. I 

. 2 



6 
6 
6 


Exiles in Babylon, . 
Miracles of Heavenly Love, 

Ned Franks, .... 


1864. 
. Nelson & Sons, 

Do. 
. Gall & Inglis, . 




. I 

. 2 


6 
6 
6 


Rescued from Egypt, 
Fairy Know-a-Bit, . 


1865. 
. Nelson & Sons, 
Do. 

1866. 




. 2 


6 
6 


Wanderer in Africa, 
Triumph over Midian, . 


. Gall & Inglis, . 
. Nelson & Sons, 


I 

2 


6 

6 


Sheer Off, ... . 
Hymns and Poems, 
House Beautiful, . 


1867. 
. Gall & Inglis, . 
. Nelson & Sons, 
Do. 

1868. 


. 2 

. 2 


6 
6 



Living Jewels, 
Castle of Carlmont, 
On the Way, 
Hebrew Heroes, . 


. Hunt & Co., 
. Nelson & Sons, 

Do. . 

Do. 


2 
2 

• 3 

• 3 


6 

6 
6 



PUBLISHED IN ENGLAND 



517 





1869. 


s. 


d. 


The Golden Fleece, 


. Nelson & Sons, 


. I 


6 


Claudia, . . . . , 


Do. 


2 


6 


Braid of Cords, 


. Gall & Inglis, . 
1870. 


. 2 





Cyril Ashley, . . . . 


. Nelson & Sons, 


. 3 


6 


Picture Story-Book, 


Do. 
1871. 


. 2 





The Lady of Provence, . 


. Nelson & Sons, 


2 


6 


The Children's Tabernacle, . 


. Shaw & Co., . 




6 


Wreath of Smoke, . 


. Gall & Inglis, . 


. I 





Freedom, . . . . 


Do. 


. 


6 


City of Nocross, 


1872. 
. Nelson & Sons, 


2 


6 


Silver Keys, . . . . 


. Gall & Inglis, . 
1874. 


. 2 


6 


An Eden in England, . 


. Gall & Inglis, . 


2 


6 


The Spanish Cavalier, . 


. Nelson & Sons, 


2 


6 



1875. 



The Haunted Room, 



Nelson & Sons, 



Every Cloud has a Silver Lining ; 
and five other Little Books, . Nelson & Sons, 



1879. 



A Wreath of Indian Stories, 



The White Bear's Den, . 
Pearls of Wisdom, . 



Harold Hartley, 
Pictures of St. Peter, 
Driven into Exile, . 



Nelson & Sons, 



1884. 



. Gall & Inglis, 



Morgan & Scott, 



1885. 
. Gall & Inglis, . 

1886. 
. Nelson & Sons, 

1887. 
. Nelson & Sons, 



eacJi o 6 



. 2 o 



2 o 

3 6 



5 o 



The Fairy in a Spider's Web, . Gall & Inglis, 



3 o 
2 6 



5i8 LIST OF PRINCIPAL BOOKS 

1888. ^. ,/. 

The Hartley Brothers, . . . Gall & Inglis, . . .26 
Harold's Bride, .... Nelson «S: Sons, . .26 

1889. 
Beyond the Dark Waters, . . Nelson & Sons, . .30 

1890. 
The Blacksmith of Boniface Lane, Nelson & Sons, . .30 

1891. 
The Iron Chain and the Golden, . Nelson & Sons, . .26 

1892. 
The Forlorn Hope, . . . Nelson & Sons, . .30 

N.B. — The prices given may not be always correct. 



LIST OF SOME SMALL BOOKLETS BY A. L. O. E. 
Translated into Indian Languages, and published at very low prices. 



Widows and the Bible. 

The African Child. 

The Fountain and the Cloud. 

Let in the Daylight. 

New Way of Eating Kelas 

(Plantains). 
The Oldest Language of All. 
The Rajah and his Servants. 
The Rainbow. 
The Brahmini Bull. 
A Brahmin's Story. 
The Rebel. 
Vessels of Gold. 
The Bag of Treasure. 
The Ploughshare. 
The Intercessor. 
Gift to the Caliph. 
For Whom is This ? 
Story of Dr. Duff. 
The Child Marriage. 
The Flower of Young India. 
Story of the Pink Chaddar. 
The Precious Trust. 



Trees to be Cut Down. 

The Turban with a Border of 

Gold. 
The Twice-Born. 
Walayat Ali, the Martyr. 
The Search after a Pearl. 
Story of a Farmer. 
Eight Pearls of Blessing. 
Flowers and Fruits. 
Gideon the Hero. 
India's People. 

The Mirror and the Bracelet. 
The Prophet and the Leper. 
Spiritual and Physical Analogies. 
Wreath of Stories. 
The Two Pilgrims to Kashi ; 

and Other Stories. 
Jai Singh, the Brave Sikh ; and 

Other Stories. 
The Wonderful Medicine ; and 

Other Stories. 
Etc. etc. 



519 



Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty 
at the Edinburgh University Press 



ATJ 



it 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





